




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 


Shelf. 1525 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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Copyright, 

E. P. DUTTON & CO., 

1890. 


Press of J. J. Little & Co, 
Astor Place, .New York. 


Pa ^atitcr, 

TO WHOSE STEADFAST EXAMPLE AND FAITHFUL 
CARE I OWE MY LOVE FOR THE CHURCH, 


l ;De9legf$ fftis Jjffle- Sfolry, 



WHOSE FAULT? 


i 



HERE had been, it appeared, a little discus 


sion of some vital topic; the glow of ear- 
nest feeling was yet warm upon the fair faces as 
each lady pursued her special occupation, and a 
little ripple of trouble seemed to linger, ruffling the 
pleasant home atmosphere. 

Then, suddenly, soothingly, across it all fell the 
sound of the Church bell, which seemed to ring 
“ Peace! Peace! ” to each vexed heart. 

“ Come, girls,” said an elderly lady rising and 
dropping certain womanly implements into a well- 
filled work-basket which stood by her. ■ 

“ Oh mother, I don’t see how I can go! All 
my unfinished work will be staring me in the face, 
and spoil my prayers. There is my practicing, 
and—” 

“ Never mind, my daughter; everything will be 
done the better afterward.” Then she rested one 


5 


6 


Whose Fault? 


hand on the full work-basket and added: “Years 
ago when you were all children and my hands 
were very full of work, I used to wonder if saints 
could ever be made from tired, hard-working mo- 
thers! And it was this very day, with its lessons, 
which helped me to an understanding of many of 
the vexed questions of a woman’s life. I want you 
all to come and receive that comfort and counsel 
which the Church offers women to-day.” 

The young girl who had spoken sighed softly as 
she laid away her crayons and folded her easel. 
Then, seeing that the other sisters had gone out, 
she looked at her mother, with a little smile. 

“I think if Trudie were a Churchwoman, they 
would not find so many little imperfections in her 
character! I hope there will be a lesson of woman- 
ly tenderness for them to-day! ” 

“ There will be something for each one of us, my 
child, if we only have willing hearts to realize it.” 

It was a pretty sight to see this mother with her 
daughters! There were four of them: and her 
proud, sweet mother-face in the midst of the little 
group told plainly that in this case God’s holy 
chrism of motherhood had fallen upon one who 
would never dishonor it. 

The two who walked one on either side of the 
mother, were the youngest and the eldest — the girl 


Whose Fault? 


7 


who yet needed so much of the motherly counsel 
and care, and the young widow whose pale, pa- 
thetic face seemed ever looking backward upon 
blissful days that had ended all too suddenly. 

The other two were on all ordinary occasions 
sufficient for each other. They had their little se- 
crets, their romances, their pretty hopes, — which 
they liked best to whisper together. 

So, through the keen March air, these women 
went on together while the bell struck its steady 
sound of “Peace! Peace!” through the din and 
confusion of the great city. 

The mother was right. They found there, in 
the sanctuary, that comfort and help which was 
needed. The words of the First Lesson fell upon 
their hearts with assurance of peace to still all 
doubt and vexation: — 

“Seek not out the things that are too hard for 
thee; neither search the things that are above thy 
strength, but what is commanded thee, think 
thereupon with reverence, for it is not needful for 
thee to see with thine eyes the things that are in 
secret.” 

Ah, what rest! — just to do “what is command- 
ed.” Not to worry nor be fretted, nor to seek the 
how and the wherefore of any troublesome thing. 
God sets the work; He knows; He commands; 


8 


Whose Fault? 


the mysteries are His. Do the little day-by-day 
duties, all will be worked into the glorious pat- 
tern somehow. You cannot tell how, but with 
God nothing shall be impossible. 

“ It is essentially the woman’s day — the mother’s 
day,” said the gray-haired clergyman glancing 
over the faces of many a loving Mary, and many a 
weary discouraged Martha. “ Come now and sit 
by the side of the lowly Virgin. See how meekly, 
how trustfully she receives the wondrous message, 
sent through the Angel Gabriel. Wondrous in- 
deed! The maiden in her low estate can scarcely 
realize it. She is ‘ troubled.’ Across the fair 
dreams of her betrothed girlhood comes the bright- 
ness of an honor which dazzles her with its high 
and holy mystery. Only one little question comes 
from the trembling and astonished heart: ‘ How 
shall this be ? ’ And then, at the angel’s assur- 
ance that all is well, since she has ‘ found favor 
with God, and the power of the Highest shall over- 
shadow’ her, she bows reverently, without further 
effort at understanding, and accepts the gracious 
dignity which has for evermore made a pure woman 
the highest of all God’s human creatures: 1 Behold 
the handmaid of the Lord! ”’ 

How the sweet peace falling as it were from 
the thought of that highly-favored woman, (by 


Whose Fault f 


9 


whose side every other true and lowly woman may 
kneel, waiting for what shall be revealed,) seemed 
to calm away all the roughness of impatience, the 
fretting angles and corners of daily life, the unrest 
and the longing, and the ever-unanswered “Why? 
Why ? ” — that sharp monotone which strikes so 
often across the sweet melody of life with jarring 
discord! 

Yes, it was the woman’s day, and each of these 
women found her God-sent word of comfort, 
kneeling there by that pure Virgin’s side. 

Into the pale face of the young widow there 
had come a deep peace; and her hand lay in God’s, 
who was leading her by ways of which she knew 
not. 

Even the youngest daughter (who since closing 
her school-books had turned a page of life which 
contained many a more vexing problem) felt her 
troubled spirit grow calm, and all the little wor- 
ries swept away by the touch of that gracious 
Hand, the power of the highest overshadowing 
her, as it had overshadowed that lowly one who 
was “blessed among women” long years before. 

The world wore a different aspect as the mother 
and daughters went forth from the quiet of the 
holy house. 

They did not speak much; but the little trouble 


IO 


Whose Fault? 


had cleared from each fair brow, and curves of 
tender feeling were upon the womanly lips. 

Rica smiled eloquently into her elder sisters’ 
faces, and said in a low voice, “ I wish Trudie had 
been with us in there ! ” 

“There she is now! Ask her home to dinner, 
darling.” 

Ah! then Rica knew that the little ripple of 
trouble was indeed smoothed away for the time 
being and she stepped gladly forward to follow 
her sister’s counsel. 

It was a young lady of her own age whom she 
went to meet; one who seemed scarcely out of 
girlhood, whose face was full of life’s sunshine, 
and whose voice touched the clear, high tones of 
joy with a ring of fearless assurance. Listening to 
her, one could not help asking: “ Could she ever 
attain to that full compass of soul music which 
strikes melody from the deep notes of woe, and 
sweetly mingles the varied sounds from life’s many 
vibrating strings ? Perhaps. It does not appear 
so now. All things seem attuned to that one 
light key of joy — joy! 

“Why, Rica! Well met! Where have you 
been ? 

“ Where I wished for you to be with me. But I 
will tell you of it by and by; you are to come 


Whose Fault ? 


1 1 

home with us please. I was bidden to ask 
you.” 

“ Thank you, I never can say no; you might 
as well place honeysuckle near the bees and ex- 
pect them to refuse to taste.” 

She laughed gaily; but as they paused at the 
home door and the others came up, she went for- 
ward with prompt respect to offer her hand to the 
mother and the elder daughters. 

The gracious motherly way and the busy, 
bright household had been familiar to Gertrude 
Preston since she and Rica had graduated to- 
gether, coming home with white-ribboned “ Di- 
plomas ” and certain vague aspirations towards a 
woman’s “ higher life.” 

They had all grown to love her. She was like a 
humming-bird in the stately quiet home, dipping 
here and there with her dainty plumage and her 
sweet low voice. 

From sharing Rica’s work and all her in- 
terests, she had come by degrees to share in 
the family work and pleasures, almost as one 
of them. 

“ It is a mutual blessing,” Rica used to say. 
“ Trude needs us to teach her the practical mean- 
ing of life, and the use of money ; and we need her 
to lighten our dull hours, and to cut up the ruts 


12 


Whose Fault? 


of our daily routine with the wheels of her fairy 
chariot ! ” 

It was only when there seemed a possibility that 
Gertrude might become more than the pleasant 
friend and companion that a little shadow fell 
across the sunlight. 

Elwood Everson was the one brother among 
these four sisters, and the love and devotion 
which would have been divided in ordinary fash- 
ion among three or four was centred with roman- 
tic strength upon this only one. He was their 
hero ; the household oracle ; the one man who 
stood above all doubting, beyond all criticism, in 
the glorified atmosphere of perfect manhood. 

Elwood Everson was truly a worthy subject for 
all this feminine admiration. He was a thorough 
man : than which no higher word of praise can be 
offered one of his sex. 

He was the eldest of the family of children who 
had grown up in the stately old-fashioned home 
of Doctor Everson. From boyhood he had pos- 
sessed those traits which so endear a man to fe- 
male hearts : that watchful attention to the 
wants of those about him ; the unobtrusive effort, 
the considerate care in small matters, the graceful 
courtesy, the delicate discrimination, — all attended 
by true manly dignity. 


Whose Fault ? 


n 

When Gertrude Preston fluttered for the first 
time one bright day into the quiet home, Elwood 
smiled indulgently at the pretty girl-stranger, 
never dreaming how the sweet light of her pres- 
ence would come to touch and thrill the deep still 
places of his being. Almost before he himself was 
aware of this, his sisters had discovered it, and 
discoursed upon it to one another. 

Rica was certainly beyond expression de- 
lighted at the intimation. Gertrude was her 
friend, her special companion : and that she 
should have become so much to Elwood was a 
thought of great joy to the young sister. 

To the others it was not a matter of any special 
pleasure. Of course they loved “Trudie;” she 
was a sort of pet among them. But that Elwood, 
— their grand, dignified brother — should have 
found in her that which his high nature de- 
manded was not an unshadowed delight to them. 
They had never thought much about Elwood’s 
marriage : it had not seemed a very probable 
thing, with this grave calm man who had found 
for so long his pleasure in their society among 
the quiet home surroundings. 

It scarcely appeared — when they thought of it — 
that the woman lived who was quite “ good 
enough ” for this brother. That this pretty but- 


Whose Fault? 


H 

terfly ot a creature should flutter into his 
heart and nestle there to stay, — why, they smiled, 
half-vexed at the thought ! 

They had been talking of her to-day : not al- 
lowing themselves to use her name in connection 
with Elwood’s ; but speaking critically of certain 
things — as had never before been their wont. 

Hence the slight ripple of the fair home atmos- 
phere which the Church bell had smoothed away. 


II. 

“ IV If OTHER, I will take Trudie to my room 
for a while, please.” 

“ Yes, my dear.” 

It was not modern American, that this young 
lady, this daughter who was “of age,” should 
respectfully inquire if it were her mother’s pleas- 
ure, before she took her friend to her room. 
Quite out of date really, and savoring of the rigid 
laws which sounded from Sinai so many years 
ago. Still these Eversons were old-fashioned 
people and retained some possibly obsolete 
habits. 

“ Ah, I have found you out! It is ‘ The Church,’ 
again! ” said Gertrude, with a soft laugh as she 
discovered Rica’s Prayer Book and Hymnal for the 
first time. 

“Yes, Trude: it was the Church ; and I did so 
wish that you were with us ! It was so helpful ; 
I feel as if all life’s snarls were now straightened 
out !” 

i.5 


i6 


Whose Fault? 


Gertrude smiled rather incredulously: but she 
said, “Tell me about it, Rica. What day is it ?” 

“ The feast of the Annunciation. Dr. Dorman 
spoke of it as specially ‘the woman’s day’; and 
the Lessons were so beautiful! Do you know, I 
like the old style of reckoning when the ‘Year 
of our Lord’ was made to begin with this Festival 
of the Annunciation on March 25th. It seems to 
me that this is really the beginning to all Chris- 
tians. Dr. Dorman said something of this sort — 
‘ When I look down the grand cathedral of the 
ages, glowingwith its memorial windows, it always 
seems to me as if this one stands at the head — 
this sweet, tender picture of the Virgin listening to 
Gabriel’s wonderful message! ’ I wish the Church 
had kept this as its beginning.” 

“Then you do admit that the Church might pos- 
sibly be bettered in some respects ? ” said Gertrude, 
with a mischievous smile while yet her eyes rested 
admiringly upon the earnest face of her young 
friend. 

“ The Church is not perfect; a Church militant 
cannot be; but this is only a personal liking, you 
know.” 

“Yes, I know, Rica. I can always tell when 
you have had some special up-lifting through 
your Church services, and sometimes I wish that 


Whose Fault? 


1 7 


my own lot had been cast in there with 
you.” 

“ Oh, I wish so, Trude. We all wish it. But — ” 
she added with a slight hesitation, “one may 
be engrafted, you know: one is not always born 
to the best estate.” 

“And what would my ‘ most-straitest-sect-of- 
a-Presbyterian’ sister say to such a perversion ? ” 
she asked, while a little conscious color crept into 
her cheeks, as if the possibility of such a thing was 
not altogether a new thought to her mind. 

Would she then be willing to accept with El- 
wood’s love his Church also ? thought Rica, watch- 
ing the play of tender feeling upon the girl’s pretty 
face. 

“ Oh, Trude, she would like anything that you 
like. ” 

“ I am not so sure of that, my dear, but come, 
I must not hinder you. Isn’t there practicing or 
something ? ” 

“ Yes, I do want to practice a little, Trude.” 

They went down-stairs together. The curtains 
were drawn aside in the pleasant old-fashioned 
parlor, letting in the full light of the fast-fading 
day. 

Rica sat at her instrument, playing over and 
over difficult and intricate passages, while Ger- 


i8 


Whose Fault? 


trude took a low seat near the window, and drew 
forth some bit of dainty work. 

The mother and the elder daughters came and 
went as was their wont, pausing now and then 
to say a kindly word to either girl — and all was 
informal and delightful. 

Some tender teaching of the day seemed to 
linger in the hearts of the women; and their sweet 
low voices and gentle ways told plainly that they 
had, — at least for the present — set aside “ the 
things that were too hard for them,” and that they 
were only going step by step as a wiser Hand led 
them and the “ power of the Highest ” over- 
shadowed them. 

Perhaps that was why they each had some call 
to leave the room shortly after greeting their 
brother, and that they were neither fretted nor 
vexed at seeing him seated very close to Gertrude, 
as the waning light compelled her to fold away 
her work. 

It was “ too hard ” for them ! They would leave 
it to the. power of the Highest, — that gracious Will 
which overshadowed them all. 

Rica played on — only changing her difficult 
passages of study for soft, sweet, dreamy strains 
which were appropriate to the hour. 

Something strangely moved the girl in the win- 


Whose Fault ? 


19 


dow-seat — either the murmuring music, or the 
twilight stillness, or the presence of the strong, 
quiet man so near her. 

She seemed not to have ready her usual spark- 
ling speeches, her merry raillery; neither could 
she flit away, and dart here and there with the 
soft blithe motions that were peculiar to her. 

Her small hands were tightly clasped as they 
lay in her lap ; her lips had a slight quiver when- 
ever she essayed one of her customary lively re- 
marks. 

She wished the dinner bell would ring. She 
heard Mrs. Richards, the widowed daughter, sing- 
ing softly in the room above. Why did she not 
come down ? 

Was there coming a crisis which would change 
all the old pleasant relations, and set things in a 
new light ? Was her “ second home ” about to be 
spoiled for her ? 

What was this calm, grave man at her side that 
he should move her thus ? Was she not going out 
that very evening, under the escort of a bright 
young gentleman, who was always devoted to 
her ? Why were not her thoughts dwelling upon 
him, instead of fluttering about this man who was 
ten years older and very much less gay and 
witty ? 


20 


Whose Fault? 


Why had she almost forgotten her engagement, 
sitting so quietly there in the twilight ? 

Before Gertrude could answer these questions 
to her own satisfaction, the deep musical voice at 
her side said, “ It is very pleasant to me to find 
you here, Miss Gertrude.” 

It was different altogether in tone and in man- 
ner from the pretty compliments which she was 
accustomed to hear, yet there was something in 
the little sentence so quietly spoken that thrilled 
her with a strange, deep joy. 

There was a sweet ring in her voice as she 
answered lightly, “ Thank you, Mr. Everson, you 
like to see the little butterfly about among your 
precious home-flowers, then ? That is very kind. 
It is to me like being in some stately, rich old 
garden of whose beauties I never tire, and where 
I find such shady rest and wondrous perfume — 
melody too,” she added, waving her hand with 
a bright grace toward Rica at the piano. 

“ May none of it ever fail you, Gertrude! May 
it only grow better and sweeter to you as the 
days go on! ” He bent over her as she sat: his 
low, deep tones held a wondrous sweetness, utter- 
ing her Christian name, and his breath stirred the 
waves of her hair. 

Does he know how she longs oftentimes for a 


Whose Fault? 


21 


place of perfect rest and trust ? — how the bright 
heart wearies of its fluttering here and there, and 
yearns for one tender abiding-place ? — how the 
smiling eyes and the merry-speaking lips hold — 
far back from sight — the loyalty of a true and lov- 
ing womanhood ? 

Very few knew it. Can it be that this bright 
bird — whose gay notes and brilliancy all are 
pleased to welcome — will at last content herself 
with the shelter of that grave, still heart ? 

The girl lifted her eyes involuntarily to thank 
him for his kind wish. As they drooped beneath 
the unspoken revelation of his gaze, his hand 
reached down and folded hers in its strong firm 
clasp. 

The dinner bell rang through the silence. Why 
must life’s common -places ever cross, at inoppor- 
tune moments, the sweet delights of our higher 
natures ? 

Mrs. Everson entered the room with her gently- 
spoken “ Are you here, children ?” 

And her son said to the one whose hand was 
yet in his, “ Excuse me; I will go to my mother.” 

Dropping her hand with a tenderness that was 
like a caress he went quickly forward and offered 
his arm to his mother. 

It had been his habit for years. He knew that 


22 


Whose Fault? 


she liked this old-time grace and courtesy, and he 
meant that she should never miss it while he was 
living in the house. 

“Yes, mother, here we are, in the twilight,” 
replied Rica to her mother’s question. “ And I 
believe I have played Trudie and Elwood to sleep,” 
she added, lightly laughing. But as she so spoke, 
she passed to Gertrude’s side and touched her 
lips gently to the blushing cheek. 

A pleasant rejoinder from the brother and the 
mingling of light words as they all gathered in 
the dining-room set Gertrude more at her ease. 

She scarcely dared meet the gaze of those 
earnest, grave eyes at the head of the table. She 
had seen in them a token of some strange, sweet 
reality which might come into her hitherto gay 
and careless life. Was she prepared to. meet 
it ? 

“ Rica,” she said, recovering presently somewhat 
of her usual bright manner, “ what do you think 
I have done ? Forgotten entirely in the delights 
of your presence, and your homeland your music, 
an engagement for this evening at Mrs. De 
Lancey’s.” 

They all laughed. Elwood said in his quiet sin- 
cere way, — “ If you are in a hurry, Miss Gertrude, 
we can go immediately. Mother will excuse us, I 


Whose Fault ? 


23 


am sure/’ — constituting himself her guardian on the 
homeward walk, as he usually did. 

“ Oh no, thank you ! It will be rude enough to 
run away directly after dinner. I trust you will 
pardon me, Mrs. Everson,” she said in her simple 
pretty way, turning to the elderly lady. 

It was not that she really felt any restraint 
in that easy pleasant household. It was rather 
that she had learned there those little ways of 
deference, those graceful acts and words of cour- 
tesy which make life at home so beautiful a thing. 
She might, like Rica, run in and out, at her pleas- 
ure, but she would not neglect the word of apology, 
the gracious regret, or the genial acknowledgment. 

“Certainly, my child, that is all right; Elwood 
will take you home whenever you wish it.” 

Rica felt a* thrill of delight at her mother’s 
words. If mother were on her side, that was a 
strong argument which the sisters could scarcely 
resist. 

“ Who is to be your escort to-night, Trudie ? I 
suppose I may ask.” 

“ Oh yes. I am going with Mr. George 
Graeme.” 

The girls went up-stairs together. Gertrude put 
on her bonnet with a matter-of-fact air, as if there 
were no special thought in her heart regarding the 


24 


Whose Fault? 


brother who waited below, to accompany her home, 
and Rica hovered about her with a torrent of words, 
caresses and questions of no special import. 

Trudie dear, how is it you accept that young 
Graeme as an escort so much ? You don’t care for 
him, do you ? ” 

“ Don’t I ? The Graemes ! Ah, the Graemes ! A 
grand old family, you know, Rica ! 

“ ‘ Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 

I’ll give thy harp heroic theme, 

And warm thee with a noble name; — 

Pour forth the glory of the Grseme ! ’ ” 

Elwood heard the little quotation so merrily 
sung in the sweet soft voice as he passed down 
the stairs. He smiled; not with any masculine 
self-assurance, but with simple pleasure at the 
girlish light-heartedness which held, he knew, such 
deep, true feeling under its surface sparkle. 

“ She shall have fair opportunity now,” he said 
to himself, “ since she knows something of how 
much she is to me. I will not trouble her again, 
until she has had time to question her own heart. 
If to-night young Grseme’s ardor and sprightliness 
seem better to her than my old-fashioned 
ways, then she shall have free choice. If, after 
proving all the others, my bonnie bird comes 


Whose Fault f 


25 


back to me, she shall find a warm place in which 
to nestle.” 

With this resolve Elwood Everson went to 
accompany their young visitor home. 

The short walk was a very quiet one on this 
occasion. He had intended that Gertrude should 
feel free to speak her usual bright and happy 
words, but somehow there had fallen a hush 
upon her gay spirit as her hand rested on his 
arm, and she said very little. Perhaps her 
thoughts were wandering to that young man who 
bore the “ famous old name.” 

As they drew near the house, Elwood said, 
“ Will you let me come to see you to-morrow 
evening, Miss Gertrude ? ” 

She consented, without looking into his face, 
and he went homeward, counting the hours which 
must pass ere he should see her again. 


III. 

“ TS that you, Trudie ?” called a sleepy voice. 

“Yes, Sylvie, and the door is barred and 
bolted, and Gyp is on guard; so sleep in peace. 
Good morning! ” 

“ The dear girl! How happy she is! ” said the 
sister, smiling as she listened to the light tread 
in the adjoining room. 

“ Perhaps she has settled it with young Graeme,” 
her husband wickedly suggested, thereby at once 
putting an end to all his wife’s peaceful slumber, 
and rousing her to excited debate. 

Meanwhile, in her own dainty room stood the 
girl whose future they were discussing — beautiful 
and bright as though the hour had been ten P. M. 
instead of two A. M. 

A rare bouquet was in her hands; and she 
proceeded to arrange it loosely in a wide vase, 
upon a bracket, where it might have the benefit of 
the cool night air. 

26 


Whose Fault f 


2 7 


Gertrude Preston never wasted nor neglected a 
flower. It was not in her nature to do so. All 
sweet bright things were precious to her. Some- 
times she had visions and dreams of a pretty 
home in the cool green country, far away from the 
noise and confinement of the city, where she could 
cultivate and tend her own little garden, adorning 
her rooms with its blossoms, and making them 
bright for — the husband, whoever he might be 
whom God should give her. The greater number 
of Gertrude’s friends knew nothing of these pretty 
dreams and tender ambitions : nothing of the 
strong, deep nature which gave them birth, and 
held them so quietly hidden away. By most peo- 
ple, Miss Preston was regarded as a charming 
butterfly of a creature, who enjoyed life’s gayeties 
to the fullest extent, but had not much care or 
thought beyond present delights. 

The Eversons — who had known her long, and in 
whose home she had felt a sweet sense of freedom 
from all formal restraint — understood her better, 
and realized something of the true worth of the 
jewel which attracted so many by its surface 
sparkle. Even to them, there were qualities 
unknown, rare depths unsounded, and certain 
intricate windings in the woman-nature which 
troubled them somewhat on occasions, and which 


28 


Whose Fault? 


even baffled their love, and brought a cloud across 
their intercourse. 

It was pretty to see Gertrude’s face as she 
handled first the flowers and then her own girlish 
adornments. One by one the dainty jewels 
were removed and placed in their own proper 
cases, — and all the while there rested upon her 
fair face the soft flicker of a happy heart light. 
She was thinking apparently of something pleas- 
ant. 

The flush deepened upon her cheeks now and 
then, and a tenderness that was almost tearful 
came to her eyes. It had been a happy evening 
to her. Nothing of defined or specially-worded 
sweetness could she remember ; nothing to which 
she had been compelled to make reply ; nothing 
which inspired her to look about her and make 
choice or comparison ; only a calm, deep as- 
surance that some one (and he the noblest of all 
men whom she had ever known) held her close in 
the strong fortress of his love, and that there she 
might rest forever if so she willed. 

He had not said it ; and yet all that evening, 
between the light words of George Graeme’s talk, 
his gracious compliments and delicate attentions, 
she heard again and again those few utterances 
of the deep, manly voice — “ May none of it ever 


Whose Fault ? 


29 


fail you, Gertrude ! May it only grow better and 
sweeter to you, as the days go on ! ” 

It was not much ; but the touch of the strong 
hand and the look in the eyes which had followed 
it told a wondrously sweet story to the young 
heart. 

All that evening — through the lights and the 
smiles of many faces — she seemed ever to feel 
those deep, true eyes, as they had looked down 
uporr her in the twilight. 

How strange it was! She seemed to be walking 
in the midst of a great multitude, seeing and hear- 
ing only that one. She listened and made an- 
swer to many people, yet she heard but one voice, 
and that his. 

She understood why he had not come to 
the little gathering himself that evening, al- 
though Mr. De Lancey was an old and inti- 
mate friend. The Eversons never appeared at 
any such gatherings during Lent. As Rica had 
said to her that evening, “ the De Lanceys 
are not as particular about such things as we 
are.” 

She wondered why there should be such differ- 
ences between Church people. Why, if the 
Church system was good, did not all follow it 
alike ? She forgot for the moment how many 


30 


Whose Fault ? 


differences of opinion and of action there were 
among her own Presbyterians. 

While she stood among the flowers of the con- 
servatory thinking of this, she was joined by Mr. 
Graeme, who brought her an ice. 

He smiled when, in reply to his question, she 
told him of what she had been thinking. 

“ Do you know, Miss Preston, speaking of the 
Eversons, that I am always impressed with the 
idea that Mr. Everson stands in the relation 
of a guardian to you, and that he has an eye 
upon us younger men, to see if we take proper 
care of you; and,” he added mentally, looking 
earnestly into her face, “ that some day I must 
go to him to ask permission to say a certain thing 
to you.” 

He saw the color deepen in her cheek; and 
thought for an instant that he had offended her, 
but her sunny smile flashed out directly, and she 
replied pleasantly — “ That is only because I have 
been at Mr. Everson’s so much. It has been a 
sort of second home to me. You know I used to 
go home with Rica in vacation time, when we 
were at school together, because my sister was 
travelling. They were all so kind, and made me 
one of them so cordially, that I always feel quite 
at home there.” 


Whose Fault? 


3i 


“Ah yes! Probably that is it; and a very 
charming family it must be to make one of. One 
rarely meets with such genuine home life as that 
of the Everson household; such whole-hearted 
hospitality; such real warmth; as if they had time 
for true living and friendship — which most Ameri- 
can people have not.” 

His words struck Gertrude as being very true. 
She smiled thoughtfully. 

“ Not time enough to live real lives, nor to cul- 
tivate true friendships,” she repeated. “ Is it 
purely American, this? ” 

“ It is essentially American, I think, Miss Pres- 
ton. Money and society are, I think, the two 
idols upon whose altars many an American home 
is offered a sacrifice.” 

“ Alas, that it should be so! ” said the girl 
thoughtfully, and there was a light of enthusi- 
asm kindled in her face the next instant, which 
seemed to say, “ I should like to set up one sweet 
home altar which should never be so wrecked! ” 

The young man noticed her look. He was al- 
most tempted to say, then and there, “ Will you 
join hands with me, to show the world around us 
a better way, a household life of love and holy 
single-heartedness ? ” 

With a strong effort he held the impulse in 


32 


Whose Fault ? 


abeyance, saying only, “ It remains for the new 
home-makers — our contemporaries, yours and mine 
— (you and me, if you please) to take the lead in a 
truer, better way. But will the generation prove 
itself brave enough ? The counter-current is very 
strong; fashion, and society, and worldliness draw 
with great power. But we are growing very seri- 
ous, you and I, Miss Preston, for party-goers,” he 
added, with a smile. 

“ Nevertheless, it is very pleasant, Mr. Graeme,” 
she replied, moving forward to mingle with the 
company — still with that sweet, thoughtful look 
upon her face which held a hidden meaning he 
could not fathom. 

She had been just her own bright self when he 
had accompanied her home. And George Graeme 
felt that this fair, womanly girl was a great deal 
to him; that he knew more of her inner life than 
many who enjoyed her smiles and pleasant words. 
Was this, however, any token of her preference ? or 
was it only a result of his interest in her, which 
had led him to speak to her of more serious things 
than were current society talk? He could not an- 
swer this question to his own satisfaction. There- 
fore he resolved to wait yet awhile and trouble 
not the sweet serenity of her intercourse with 
him. 


Whose Fault ? 


33 


So he watched her bright face, as it passed from 
him that night; he noted how she cared for the 
flowers he had given her, and he was well content. 

In happy ignorance of the feelings in George 
Graeme’s heart, Gertrude lingered over her late 
preparations for retiring ; always with that uncon- 
scious half-smile which told the sweet inner se- 
cret. 

George Graeme had been a long-tried friend to 
her. She looked upon him almost as a kind 
brother, to whom she might turn in any emer- 
gency, and whose company was always calmly 
agreeable ; neither wearying nor exciting. Now, 
if the thought of him stayed with her at all, it was 
only in the remembrance of what he had spoken 
of Mr. Everson. “ A sort of guardian ! ” she 
smiled ; and, for a moment stayed her hand in its 
arrangement of George Graeme’s flowers ; the hand 
which had felt that strong tender touch, just for 
one blissful moment. Ah, what a guardianship 
that would be ! How her whole life seemed to 
sink into glad rest at the thought ! He was so 
wise, so true, so noble — and he cared so for her ! 
She scarcely needed the assurance, — the revelation 
which he was coming the next evening to make. 
And yet, how sweet it would be to listen ! 

The remembrance of that deep, tender voice 


34 


Whose Fault? 


thrilled her. Why, how she had grown to care for 
this man ! Almost unconsciously her bright na- 
ture had leaned toward his calm, earnest man- 
hood, intertwining, until 

She tried to shut out the bright visions, and to 
find her old, free-hearted, girlish sleep, but she 
could not ! The time had gone by, and when 
her sister looked into her face the next morning, 
she knew that “something had come to Ger- 
trude : ” that the door was about to close upon 
that gay girl-life, and womanhood’s strange, re- 
sponsible realm to open to the untried heart. 

“Well, Trudie,” spake the genial brother-in-law, 
looking up from his second cup, and noticing also 
the new light in her face, “ you had a pleasant 
time, of course, and if you’ll allow me to venture 
a guess, I shall say that you have decided to make 
young Graeme a happy man.” 

There was an honest warmth in his manner, 
which saved his words from the censure of abrupt- 
ness or of frivolity. 

Gertrude knew and loved her brother-in-law, 
therefore she felt no offense at his remark. But 
her eyes widened with a sudden surprise, as she 
answered thoughtfully, “Why, Stewart, you know 
George Graeme is only a kind friend to me — more 
of a brother than anything else.” 


Whose Fault ? 35 

“ And is that what makes the sunshine in your 
eyes, after your late hours, little sister ? ” 

“ Never mind,” put in Sylvie. “ Trudie will tell 
us everything, all in good time. Give her some 
breakfast first.” 

And so the meal passed pleasantly, as meals 
usually did in that little household. Gertrude 
told all about the party : who were there, etc., 
etc., in her own cheery, merry way. 

By and by, when Stewart had kissed wife 
and baby, lighted his cigar and gone, the girl 
followed her sister with the newly-awakened 
question on her lips, and a little trouble in the 
clear eyes. 

“ Sylvie, you don’t really think — you and Stew- 
art — that I have given Mr. Graeme any cause to — 
to — It is such a mean, cruel thing to do ; such 
an unwomanly way ! ” 

The tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of ' 
wrong done in that way to the noble young man 
who had been such a good friend to her. 

“ Why no, Trudie ! We know nothing about 
it, except that George Graeme has been very at- 
tentive and kind to you ; and you know what the 
result of such friendship often is, dear. I have 
never seen anything in your actions toward him 
to warrant any great expectations on his part. 


3 ^ 


Whose Fault? 


Only— men will take things for granted, some- 
times” 

“ Mr. Grseme is not such a man I am sure. I 
don’t believe he has any thought of me, except as 
a friend ; as the associate of some bright and 
pleasant evening talks ! ” 

“Very likely, Trudie dear. And Stewart was 
only a little on the wrong track,” she added, with 
a questioning smile into her sister’s flushed face. 
“Don’t fret, for a minute, child. We know you 
would never act wrongly, in the slightest way, to- 
wards any man.” 

“Why, I would not give George Graeme any 
pain — would not hurt his feelings so for anything 
in the world ! ” 

Nevertheless, all unconsciously she did so pain 
him. She never knew it. It was part of George 
Graeme’s life discipline : and he bore it manfully, 
coming through the fire purified and made fitter 
for his work in the world. 


IV. 


nnHE good brother and sister were a little sur- 
prised when Mr. Everson was announced, 
that evening. 

He had not been a frequent visitor at their 
home, and his sister Frederica used to say that she 
visited for the whole family. Indeed the intimacy 
had never extended to Mr. and Mrs. Yates; al- 
though on the other side, Gertrude was at home 
with all the members of the Everson family. 

Even on this occasion, when the inquiry had 
been for “ Miss Preston ” — and Gertrude had 
answered the summons without much delay — her 
brother and sister supposed there Was only “ some 
message ” from Rica, or some plan in which 
“ Trude ” was to be included, in the kindly Ever- 
son way. 

So, one read his evening paper, in an undis- 
turbed way, and the other made her good-night 
visit to the nursery, enjoying the sleepy prattle of 
the little one, all unconscious of the momentous 

37 


38 


Whose Fault f 


question which was being asked and answered in 
the parlor, whither Gertrude had gone! 

His offering of flowers revealed itself before she 
drew the curtain at the doorway. He had always 
liked to see her enjoyment of flowers. Her eyes, 
her smile, the very caress of her fingers, as she 
touched them, told how she delighted in them 
more than the most effusive words could have 
expressed. 

“ They always make me so glad,” she said softly, 
as he watched her bending over his gift. “ They 
seem to tell me that the world is very good and 
very true, notwithstanding all the dark things 
which have been said about it.” 

Her soft laugh rippled like music on the air. 

“ Gertrude,” he said, “ you are very bright, very 
happy : are you not ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed! Why not ? ” 

For a moment, he paused. Was he right ? 
Was there that in his own nature which could re- 
spond to this brightness; that which could give 
nourishment and room to this gladness, and not 
check nor dull it ? 

At least, the yearning in him was very great, 
and would not be restrained. 

He went and stood by her, as she lingered over 
the flowers. 


Whose Fault ? 


39 


“ You see, I am like the honey-bees — loath 
to leave my sweets,” she said, smiling up at 
him, but instantly dropping her eyes at his eager 
gaze. 

“ Gertrude, would you think me very selfish, if 
I asked you to come to me, with your brightness 
and gladness — to come and fill my life with the 
sweetness of your song, of your presence and love ? 
Could you ? Would it seem a dull task ? Would 
you fear to place your joyous life by the side of 
mine, so quiet and staid ? ” 

She paused an instant; then moved close to 
him without a word — so close that the bright 
waves of her hair touched his arm, as he stood 
looking down at her. 

It was a pretty answer to his question. His 
heart throbbed joyfully. He put his arm about 
her, drawing closer still the unresisting form. 

“ Gertrude, my bright bird, I love you very 
dearly. Will you give into my keeping the glad- 
ness and the beauty of your life ? Will you be my 
wife ? ” v 

“ It is the best thing in all the world,” she 
whispered; nestling with a feeling of perfect rest 
in his strong embrace. 

Then he led her to a seat, and told her the 
whole sweet story of his love. He learned some- 


40 


Whose Fault? 


thing, too, of how much he was to her: as much 
as her shy nature would reveal. And these two 
were very, very happy. 

By and by, as the hour grew late, and the hus- 
band and wife began to wonder what discussion 
was going on in the parlor, Mr. Everson’s knock 
was heard at their open door, and his voice ask- 
ing permission to enter. 

Gertrude’s hand was in his arm; and a light 
which could not be mistaken shone in both faces. 

He went forward, in his own dignified way, and 
stood before the young wife. 

“Mrs. Yates, I have come to ask you to give 
me your sister. I will devote my life to her, to 
cherish her, and make her happy. I know what 
loving guardians you and your husband have been 
to her; and I shall try very hard that she may miss 
nothing of the tenderness and care which you have 
given.” 

There was a gracious manliness in his words 
and manner which could not fail to impress them 
favorably. 

The tears sprang to the loving sister’s eyes, as 
she looked from Mr. Everson to Gertrude’s blush- 
ing face, half hidden upon his shoulder. 

Then she rose, and held out her hand with a 
cordial smile. 


Whose Fault? 


4i 


“ You have taken me quite by surprise, I con- 
fess, Mr. Everson. But I assure you, I know of 
no one to whom I could more gladly give up my 
sister.” 

While she was kissing Gertrude, and both were 
trying to hide their feelings and their loving, 
womanly tears, Mr. Everson turned to the brother- 
in-law, and received his hearty congratulations and 
good-will. 

“ Trudie has been a dear, bright, little sister; 
she will make *1 good wife, I am sure.” 

“ The dear old brother, thank you,” cried 
Gertrude, moving over to hug him. 

Then, after a few more kind words and assur- 
ances, Gertrude saw her betrothed depart, coming 
back with a radiant face which could not but allay 
any doubt in the hearts of her sister and brother. 

“ Why, Trudie, you little witch,” began Mr. 
Yates, to cover his wife’s agitation, as Gertrude 
sat down at her sister’s feet, and rested her head in 
her lap, “ you have completely surprised us. Who 
would have given you credit for so much trickery! 
Here have I been getting myself ready to en- 
counter young Graeme; rehearsing a speech of 
brotherly counsel and warning to him; even trying 
to show up his good points to Sylvie; and, lo ! 
you upset all my calculations, and bring in tri- 


42 


Whose Fault f 


umphantly, not the bonnie young Graeme, but 
that tip-top fellow, Everson! The wiles of women 
are beyond my comprehension.” 

By the time he finished his wife had recovered 
the power to speak calmly. 

“ Trudie, I am very glad for you. I think you 
have chosen well. Elwood Everson is a man in 
a hundred; his relations with his mother and sister 
show that. I suppose it is your being there so 
much — almost as one of the family — which has led 
us astray in our conjectures.” • 

“ I suppose so, Sylvie. I was surprised myself, 
when — when — I found where my heart belonged,” 
she added shyly with the pretty color spreading 
over her face. “ But Sylvie, he is a good son and 
brother. So good and kind and attentive! He 
would not neglect or slight his mother even for 
me.” She laughed her own merry laugh. 

Stewart said, half in jest, half in earnest, “You 
are willing, I suppose, that such a state of affairs 
should last; that the mother should always have 
the first place? You would always be willing to 
yield to her ? ” 

“ Of course I should. She is such a dear lady, 
too! I can’t say old lady, for she is as bright and 
active and busy as any of her daughters. It will 
be nice to gain a mother, as well as a — ” the bright 


Whose Fault? 


43 


blush filled the pause. “ For sisters, there never 
has been a lack. Has there, Sylvie ? ” 

The impulsive girl put her arms around her 
sister’s neck; and in the little silence which fol- 
lowed, both recalled vividly a mother’s parting 
words — “ You must be mother and sister, both, to 
little Gertrude, now, my Sylvie.” Well had her 
heart kept that trust. 

After Stewart was asleep that night, his wife 
went softly from the room, and tapped at her 
sister’s door. It was as she had suspected ; Gertrude 
had also put on her wrapper, and sat in the easy 
chair before the grate fire musing. 

“ Oh, Sylvie, you will take cold,” she cried, 
yet her heart was glad at the dear presence; and 
she pushed forward a big rocker, and wrapped a 
shawl about her sister as she seated herself. 

“ I thought you would be sitting here; and I 
couldn’t resist coming to you. Oh, Trudie, must it 
be soon ? ” 

Through her tears, Gertrude could not repress a 
smile. 

“ I have a suspicion, dear, that it must. Or 
rather, I think that Elwood will not want to wait 
long. But you know, Sylvie, we shall probably 
always stay near each other, you and I. Nothing 
can draw me away from my sister-counsellor. 


44 


Whose Fault? 


That is the one thing which is settled, without 
either question or answer. I am to have my 
Sylvie near, to whom I may carry every hope and 
doubt and gladness of my life.” 

The hours slipped by while the sisters talked. 
There seemed so much to say — so many little 
tender things and thoughts which sprang up at this 
first disturbance of the happy routine life. 

The spring dawn-light was very near when 
Sylvie Yates returned to her own room, and as 
for Gertrude, she only lay and thought upon the 
new sweetness which had come into her life, mak- 
ing its possibilities greater, its aims nobler, its 
prayers more fervent and sincere. 

Somehow, when she knelt to thank God for this 
glad gift, a sudden remembrance came to her of 
what Rica had said, so short a while before, re- 
garding a certain Church festival. She pondered, 
a while — “ It was essentially the woman’s day,” 
Rica had said, the day when they all, sisters of 
that pure Virgin, might learn how the “ power of 
the Highest ” ever overshadowed them; how, in 
the things that were “too hard ” for them, they 
must trust all to Him., accepting the mysterious 
ways which He set before them with sweet humility 
and tender reverence. 

Might she not — who now was about to renounce 


Whose Fault? 


45 


her girlhood, at His call, and to accept the mys- 
tery and blessing of womanhood — might she not 
then kneel and pray for this power of the Highest 
to overshadow her, for His grace to keep her, His 
hand to hold hers, and stay her from searching the 
things which were above her strength ? 

Ah, yes. Late as it was, Gertrude rose from her 
knees to find the small Prayer Book and the Les- 
sons which she had not long ago bought for her- 
self, though no one knew it, and sought out the 
beautiful Lesson of which Rica had spoken. 

The sweet refrain sounded again and again as 
she lay dreamily recalling the events of the last 
few hours. 

Gertrude Preston was not one to talk her relig- 
ion, even with the friend or the sister whose heart 
responded to her lightest word, but she felt deep- 
ly — how deeply none knew, even of those who 
knew her most intimately. Once let her impulsive 
young heart be touched, once let her pause to con- 
sider a certain truth, and she would be deeply earn- 
est over it, would apply all her powers to its fulfil- 
ment. Now, though she said no word of it to 
any- one, under all the sweet joy of her love, be- 
neath the gladness and the memory of Elwood 
Everson’s least word and look, lay the deep, rever- 
ent thought that God had sent her the gift; that 


46 


Whose Fault? 


He would be her strength in all responsibility 
which accompanied it. 

Alas, if we could but keep the dew of the first 
sweet sunrise hour upon the roses of our life, if we 
could but bind our souls with that first strong all- 
promising thrill which touches so every chord of 
our being at joy’s morning-time! 

Gertrude was not surprised, though Mr. Everson 
had said nothing of it, to receive a call early the 
next day from his mother and Rica. 

He came with them, and after his first gentle 
greeting, which meant so much in its calm dignity, 
he gave Gertrude up to them. 

The mother was much like him, in her quiet ten- 
der ways; but Gertrude had learned to know her 
well, and understood how to value her every word 
and embrace. 

“ Dear child, I am very glad Elwood has brought 
me another daughter. He knew that the old house 
would miss its gay songster soon, if we did not 
open our hearts to bid her stay.” 

“ He knew too, that I could not get on without 
my bonnie twin sister,” added Rica, hugging and 
kissing her friend as soon as her mother gave her 
a turn. “ You darling, how lovely of you to come 
and be one of us ! I have had visions and dreams 
of it; but this is reality ! ” Her laughing manner 


Whose Fault ? 


47 


and gay words covered a depth of real emotion. 
Elwood knew this, so did Gertrude, and they loved 
her the better for it. 

Mrs. Everson asked for Sylvie, and that little 
matron was duly summoned, and treated with all 
proper respect and courtesy. She was greatly 
pleased with the elder lady’s cordial yet dignified 
manner, and the affection with which she evidently 
regarded Gertrude. 

Altogether, it was an agreeable call, to all par- 
ties concerned. Certainly the three ladies found 
no fault, and discovered many things to discuss 
among themselves when after a while Elwood 
contrived to draw Gertrude away for a little pri- 
vate conversation. 

After that allowance made to her brother, 
Rica thought she had earned a right to stay 
with her friend, when the others returned, one 
to her home duties, the other to his business 
affairs. 

“ And I will bring her home with me to dinner,” 
she added, with a half-questioning glance at her 
brother. 

“ Yes, do come, dear,” said the mother. 

“ You will not wait for any ceremony on the 
part of the girls, . I am sure.” 

“ Oh no indeed,” responded Gertrude, with a 


48 


Whose Fault ? 


shy smile. “Since you have been so kind, I surely 
cannot refuse to do my part.” 

She did not feel as sure of “ the girls ” as she 
felt of the mother and Rica. Yet no one should 
see this doubt, she resolved; and she would cer- 
tainly meet them “ half way.” 

So she and Rica were left together for a long 
confidential talk. Gertrude, however, let her friend 
do the most of the talking; she answering more by 
smiles and looks than by direct words. 

They were friends of too long standing to need 
the etiquette of prompt question and answer or to 
feel troubled at a little silence. Besides, Gertrude 
was too deeply moved by this gladness which had 
shed its sunshine upon her life to speak much of it, 
even to one who was so nearly concerned. It was 
as yet sacred to Elwood and herself. 

Rica saw this, and appreciated it. She felt a 
little anxiety regarding her sisters’ reception of 
Gertrude in her new position; and with girlish 
impatience she wished to have the first encounter 
over. 

On this point — a point where the thoughts of 
both were lingering — the girls did not speak that 
morning. But Rica had discovered the dainty 
Prayer Book and the open Lesson page upon her 
friend’s table, as they sat together; and she took 


Whose Fault f 


49 


hope, weaving together pretty threads of a love- 
story from life; while Gertrude bound up the shin- 
ing waves of her hair, and put on the dress which 
she thought Elwood would like best. Happy girl, 
who had yet left girlhood behind her there on 
the unshadowed way. 


V. 



S Gertrude had surmised, her lover plead for 


an early marriage. “This is March. If it 
might be in the early summer ? ” he said, watch- 
ing her pretty face with the sweet lights passing 
over it. It told its own story. He read it with 
affectionate eagerness. 

Her first thought was of leaving Sylvie, the dear 
mother-sister, who had been so tender and so true. 
Scarcely less so, in his own cheery way, had been 
her brother-in-law. It would be hard to go from 
these tried and trusted ones even at love’s higher 


call. 


Gertrude’s lip quivered as she thought of it, 
yet her woman-love had so mysteriously twined 
itself about this man that his wishes were hers, 
and what he asked it was her pleasure to give. 

“ It shall be when you say, Elwood,” she replied, 
with her soft voice full of tender yielding, and the 
timid blush brightening her face. 


Whose Fault ? 


5i 


“ Thank you, my darling. Then I will choose 
the month, and you shall select your own day. 
Shall it be June, the opening of the bright summer 
time, the beginning to us of our new life, a sum- 
mer-life of love and all fair things ? ” 

“June, yes, that is a beautiful month. Oh, El- 
wood, if our life might be as lovely and as bright 
as that,” she added, raising her eyes full of hap- 
py affection to his own. 

“ Gertrude, my love, it shall be so if it is in my 
power to make it. I want my sweet songster to 
miss nothing that has gladdened her girlhood, but 
rather to find more and more of joy and bright- 
ness and beauty.” 

Many a similar conversation had these lovers 
during the few happy weeks which ensued be- 
tween that bleak March time and their wedding- 
day in June, and ever the conviction seemed to 
grow in their hearts that their largest wishes for 
happiness would be fulfilled. As they watched 
the season grow and bud and blossom into full 
beauty and sweetness, so their hopes and lives 
seemed to approach more and more unto glad 
completeness. There were no drawbacks. 

Rica’s sisters had received their brother’s fiancee 
with cordial affection; and their expressions of 
loyalty and sisterly devotedness toward Elwood, 


52 


Whose Fault? 


their appreciation, even their exaggeration, of his 
fine qualities only met with a proud response from 
loving little Gertrude. 

Sometimes they would give her warning in a 
merry way of what they should expect of “ El- 
wood’s wife.” 

“ We have always said that his choice should 
be the first woman in the world ! ” 

“ He is so noble himself that you know we 
look to see his wife also above all ordinary 
women ! ” 

But all this was said with a smiling manner and 
playfulness; so that Gertrude could not possibly 
take offense, had she been so inclined, which she 
was not. She generally replied that she “ would 
keep herself under careful training, that she might 
not fail to fulfil their great expectations,” and 
she would often end her merry rejoinder with an 
embrace “all ’round.” 

“ Could any one help loving such a bright, af- 
fectionate creature,” quoth Rica, “ and might not 
any man envy Wood such a prize ? ” 

Nevertheless there were certain points which 
were often discussed privately between the sisters; 
more especially the question of Gertrude’s Church- 
manship ; rather her non-Churchmanship ; for 
certainly, as far as they knew, she had given 


Whose Fault ? 


53 


no sign of any attachment to the Church, nor 
of any intention to cast in her lot among its 
members. 

“ But surely she will do so ! Elwood will 
surely re — wish it of her. Don’t you think so, 
mother ? ” remarked the eldest daughter, while her 
face took on a troubled expression. 

“ He will wish it of her certainly, my dear ; and 
his wish ought to be sufficient for his wife. But 
we must try not to feel over-anxious. Let Elwood 
work out his own little problems.” 

Mrs. Richards watched the mother’s placid, 
trustful face, and wondered how she could “ take 
all things so quietly.” 

Ah, the years had brought many useful lessons 
to the elder woman, which, as yet, her daughters 
were far from knowing. 

“ But, mother, how much wiser it would be, in 
Wood, to have a complete understanding of all 
these matters now before he is married; and 
certainly if the beauties of the Church and its 
liturgy do not impress Trude at this time (when 
all that a lover loves and cares for becomes 
specially dear to his betrothed,) there is small hope 
that she will turn to it afterwards.” 

Jessie blushed as she uttered this emphatic 
word of warning. She was somewhat sensitive 


54 


Whose Fault f 


just then on the subject of lovers and lovers' 
wishes. 

The mother smiled and answered, “ It is pref- 
erable no doubt that on such points a perfect 
understanding should be arrived at before mar- 
riage. But, my children, we can trust Elwood, I 
think, to act wisely and generously in such mat- 
ters. Why should we vex ourselves with this 
question ? ” 

The “children” smiled. They never rebelled 
in the slightest way at being kept “ children ” so 
long after all traces of childhood had passed away. 
If it pleased “ mother,” it was all right. But this 
question of Elwood’s marriage was quite another 
thing ; and they felt it hard to yield to the 
mother’s quiet decision. 

There is a love which finds its happiness in 
complete, unquestioning trust : whatsoever the 
loved one decides, by word or deed, that is accept- 
ed as the right decision. There is another love, 
which wears upon the life of the loved one by its 
eager questioning of his every word and deed, to 
find if those words and deeds attain the measure 
of that perfection with which they have credited 
him : this is a devouring love, which eats away all 
rest and satisfaction, both from the lives of the 
lover and the loved one. 


Whose Fault? 


55 


These sisters of Elwood Everson had set their 
brother upon so lofty a pinnacle, their standard for 
him was so far beyond the ordinary manhood type, 
that they were, unconsciously, ever measuring his 
words and actions, striving to fit them to that 
high perfection. This had been comparatively an 
easy task for their love to accomplish until El- 
wood had found this “ nearer one still and dearer 
one yet than all others.” After that one great 
step had been taken, all the glory of their sisterly 
aspirations and hopes seemed to grow dim. 

Had they not, then, loved this bright, gay girl, 
who had come and gone among them for so 
long? Yes, oh yes; they loved Gertrude Pres- 
ton — as Gertrude Preston. But when Elwood, 
their immaculate brother, condescended to say 
that he too loved her — well, that changed every- 
thing ! 

“ And to hurry it so, too ; as if his life hitherto, 
had been lacking in care and love. It doesn’t look 
well.” 

“Wouldn’t it be pleasant to have it a double 
wedding, Jessie, since it must be ? That would 
give a show of reason to Elwood’s action.” 

The sudden color flashed to Jessie’s cheek at 
her sister’s half-mischievous remark. 

“ No ! I could not make my affairs a conven- 


56 


Whose Fault f 


ience to — to Gertrude, simply to try to cover her 
foolish haste.” 

“It was Wood whom I was thinking of, not 
Trude,” answered Grace quietly. But she did not 
press the proposal any further, since it had been so 
ungraciously received. 

And so these sisters spoke, from time to time, 
while the sweet spring days wore away, and the 
lovers became more and more dovoted to each 
other. 

There was a certain pride (foolish, perhaps, but 
very human) in the hearts of the mother and sisr 
ters which forbade their asking any questions or 
betraying any eager curiosity ; and so, although 
they wondered — perhaps I may even say worried — 
much as to certain preparations, they said no word 
to Elwood. This they knew to a certainty: that 
Gertrude continued attending her own Presby- 
terian services, as usual; and that Elwood had 
several times accompanied her, while she had only 
once attended the Church services, and that was 
on Easter Day, an occasion when non-members 
frequently came in to hear and enjoy. It was a 
question of very serious import to them, a source 
of constant uneasiness and dissatisfaction ; yet 
they were too loyal to say anything to their bro- 
ther which might seem like criticising his actions: 


Whose Fault ? 


57 


and they tried right honestly to be patient, and 
trust to his love for the Church and his sense of 
propriety to lead him safely and wisely through 
this trying ordeal. 

Jessie, whose love for the Church was one of the 
strongest points in her nature, could not conceive 
of any one forming an attachment for another who 
was not a member of her own church. She had 
not done so ! Her heart had been given to one 
who had been brought up, as she herself had, in all 
the sacred ways of God’s household. 

She regarded it as the very chiefest of his vir- 
tues ; and indeed all of Mrs. Everson’s family 
were well pleased at the choice of the second 
daughter. But then there were four daughters, 
and there was only one son, and upon that one 
had centred the affection, the pride, the great 
expectations which are usually divided among the 
several brothers of a household. 

That Elwood Everson was a good son and bro- 
ther, which none could deny, only increased the 
fervor of the female devotion, but it did not help 
him any in this particular crisis. 


VI. 


HERE were no troublesome or vexing dis 



A cussions in the household of the expectant 
bride. All there was harmony and perfect sym- 
pathy. The wisdom of Gertrude Preston’s choice 
was not questioned nor debated. Elwood Everson 
was a good man and honorable; he was of an 
excellent old family; his position in the business 
world and in society was unquestioned ; he was 
a Christian gentleman and he loved Gertrude. 
These facts appeared to be sufficient to satisfy the 
sister and her husband. They had not spoken of 
his creed, neither to one another nor to Gertrude. 
If Sylvie had given it any thought, at least it had 
not vexed nor worried her. The days were only 
too precious and too fleeting for the fond sisters. 
They clung to one another, while the preparations 
for the wedding went on; talking over all the past, 
and living over again the merry girl-days. 

“I am glad that Mr. Everson will take you 
first to the old home, dear. It will be so bright 


Whose Fault? 


5q 


and cheery, and you cannot possibly ever feel 
lonely while he is away all day. Then too it is 
so near to me. Oh, I could not have it other- 
wise.” 

“ Nor I, you dear old Sylvie! I should runaway 
from Elwood — even from him — if he took me any- 
where far from you. Yes,” she added, more seri- 
ously — “ I am glad to go in the old home, his 
boyhood’s home, where I have spent so many 
happy hours. It will please his mother better, too, 
Elwood says; and you know, dear, I should feel 
very selfish if I took her only son away from her, 
she has depended upon him for so long.” 

There was a sweet, girlish simplicity in all these 
little sayings of Gertrude’s which pleased Sylvie 
and her husband greatly. 

“ She deserves to be happy, she is so perfectly 
unselfish! ” cried the young wife, one evening as 
they sat together talking it over. “ And all I ask 
for her is, that she may be as happy as I am.” 

“ Oh, you modest little petitioner!” exclaimed 
the proud husband, bending his head to kiss the 
face which nestled against him, as the wife sat in 
her low sewing-chair at his side. 

“ She will be happy, never fear. Our Trudie is 
made for happiness; and they can’t help loving her 
there in the Everson household, if they try. As 


6o 


Whose Fault? 


a general rule, I think it is preferable for a man to 
take his young wife to a home where they two will 
be by themselves; but in this case it certainly 
seems quite right and pleasant for Trudie to go to 
Everson’s home. They all know her well; she 
has been like another daughter among them for a 
long time back; and the place must seem like 
home to her. Yes, I regard this as an excep- 
tional case.” 

Thus with generous and cheerful spirit they 
regarded the approaching marriage; but no one 
thought of questioning how. the difference in creed 
was to be arranged; and there appeared to be no 
feeling of anxiety on that subject. Perhaps Mr. 
and Mrs. Yates took it for granted that Gertrude 
would adopt the faith of her husband. Possibly it 
was not to them a matter of such importance as it 
was to the Everson family. 

Elwood’s sisters were the first after all to 
broach the subject to him. 

“ You will be married in church of course, 
Wood ? ” 

“ No, Jessie, I think not. Gertrude has chosen 
her sister’s home; and I rather guess that it is her 
sister’s wish.” 

They all looked their amazement; possibly 
something more than amazement; but Jessie on- 


Whose Fault? 


61 


1 y said quietly, “ I am sorry,” and the sisters kept 
all the rest with which their hearts were full 
to say among themselves when Elwood had 
gone. 

It was the first bitter disappointment to them; 
and they felt it the more keenly, because it seemed 
to them to be only a prelude to all the other dis- 
appointments which might come to them through 
this marriage of their only brother with one who 
did not know and love the Church. 

It was like a barrier between them and Elwood; 
they who had always lived in such free and friend- 
ly intercourse, such complete sympathy and har- 
mony. It cast a restraint over their actions, when 
Gertrude was present; though she, being full of 
busy preparations, and more often with her special 
friend Rica than with the family generally, did 
not notice it. 

It vexed Rica, who was so partial to her friend 
that she could not find fault with her decision in 
any matter; but she hoped it would all pass away 
when once Elwood was married, and they had all 
grown accustomed to the change. 

“ Be patient, my children,” Mrs. Everson would 
say, “ and remember that Gertrude has an only 
sister to consult with in all these things, and that 
she naturally would wish to please her in every 


62 


Whose Fault f 


way. We must work and act with great tenderness 
and wisdom, if we would bring others to see and 
appreciate the riches of beauty which is the pre- 
cious inheritance of Christ’s Church. Remember, 
my children, the Lord’s own command, which ap- 
plies to each one who would do any work for Him: 

‘ Be ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as 
doves.’ ” 

“ But oh, mother, just think of the exquisite 
beauty of our marriage service, and the baldness, 
the mere nothingness, of any other! How can 
Elwood ? ” 

“Just the same as any one else ‘can’ who 
is in love and should yield to the wishes of the 
woman he loves,” exclaimed Rica, indignantly, 
and with girlish devotion to the cause of her 
friend. 

“Rica, my child! ’’said the mother’s reproving 
voice. 

“ Well, I can’t help it, mother. If they are not 
careful, they will mar and spoil the whole thing 
by their complaints, when it ought to be all har- 
mony and peace. I love the Church and its ser- 
vices quite as well as any one of you; quite as 
well; but I wouldn’t fret my life away, and vex 
every one about me, and shadow my only brother’s 
^marriage time, just because he chooses to follow 


Whose Fault? 63 

his bride’s wish, and be married by a Presby- 
terian! ” 

She left the room hastily, to hide the tears 
which were coming fast; and her sisters felt very 
uncomfortable. 

“ There is a great deal of plain truth in what 
Rica says.” Mrs. Everson spoke in her usual 
calm way, which had more force than her young- 
est daughter’s impetuous indignation; and it set- 
tled the controversy for the time being. 

“ We will try not to spoil poor Wood’s wedding, 
at all events,” said the eldest sister; though why 
she should say “ poor Wood,” no one quite knew. 

“ Why, my children, he has chosen a dear good 
girl, bright and loving. Let us be content 
and keep back any little wishes of our own, 
making the time as joyous and harmonious as 
possible.” 

It was a curious fact that about the same time 
that these good Church people and devoted sisters 
were thus vexing their hearts over this matter, 
Gertrude Preston sat alone in her room with the 
little Prayer Book which she had purchased open 
at the Order for the Solemnization of Holy Matri- 
mony. She read it through several times with a 
pretty color coming and going in her face and a 
mist of happy tears in her eyes. 


64 


Whose Fault ? 


“ Elwood would be pleased, I know,” she said to 
herself. “ It is very beautiful. I will ask Sylvie.” 

It had been an understood thing that good old 
Dr. Grey, who had baptized both sisters and had 
married Sylvie and Stewart, should also perform 
the ceremony for Gertrude. Yet there had been 
all along a feeling in Gertrude’s heart that her 
lover would prefer that church form to which he 
was accustomed. 

“ If Sylvie likes it, that shall settle it,” she said: 
and she went directly to Sylvie’s room, carryingthe 
pretty little Prayer Book open in her hand. 

“ Sylvie dear ? ” 

“ Well, Trudie, what is it ? Come, sit here.” 

She had baby in her arms and drew a low rock- 
ing-chair to Gertrude’s side, smiling fondly at her. 

“ I was reading over this Episcopal marriage ser- 
vice; Elwood has not said any thing about it; he 
has left everything to my pleasure; but I was 
wondering, Sylvie, if it would be better to use this 
form. What do you think ? ” 

“ Well, Trudie dear, the Episcopal marriage form 
is very beautiful; I think all denominations ac- 
knowledge that; and it is often used by those who 
are members of other churches.” 

Then she paused and sat thinking for a mo- 
ment. 


Whose Fault f 


65 


“ Do you want very much, or do you feel that 
you ought to use this form, Trudie ?” 

“■No; I only felt that it might please Elwood if 
I chose that. But he is so kind, I know that my 
choice, whatever it is, will content him; and I shall 
be guided altogether by what you advise.” 

“ Then, dear, I will speak frankly. For myself, 
or for Stewart, we should be quite satisfied to have 
you make this choice to please Mr. Everson, and 
be married by this beautiful ceremony; but I think 
that our faithful friend and counsellor, Dr. Grey, 
would feel somewhat slighted if he were not asked 
to come and marry one of his old Sunday School 
children; and as for requesting him to use this ser- 
vice (as I know is sometimes done), well, I should 
not want to do it. You know the old doctor is 
peculiar; and he is too, I think, a little prejudiced 
against the Episcopal Church- I don’t believe he 
would do justice to this beautiful service ! ” she 
added, with a little laugh, yet looking anxiously 
into her sister’s face, to see if her words had 
wounded her any. 

But no; she seemed to feel relieved that some 
one had decided this question for her. 

“ I think you are right, Sylvie,” she said, after 
some thought. “ I will tell Elwood that all is set- 
tled, and I know that he will be quite satisfied.” 


66 


Whose Fault? 


And was he ? In a certain sense, yes ! He was 
satisfied because the girl he loved had chosen: and, 
in comparison with his love, other matters seemed 
to weigh little at this time. 

“ Very well, darling, that will please me,” he 
said; and, holding both her hands, he added fur- 
ther unimportant words to which we need not lis- 
ten; and as he meditated upon the decision, walking 
homeward, he said to himself, “ She will come to 
love the Church in time, just as she loves all beau- 
tiful and worthy objects,” and his pulses beat joy- 
fully at the thought of enjoying with her all those 
sweet and holy associations which had been part 
of his life always. 


VII. 

TT was all over at last, and it had been — so said 
every one concerned — a thorough success. 
Nothing had been done or left undone to mar 
the harmony of the day. 

Gertrude had been just her own bright self 
through all the trying occasion; and one could 
easily discern how happy she was in this new rela- 
tionship, which was changing her whole life; and 
certainly Elwood Everson was not far behind his 
chosen bride, in point of happiness, though he was 
more sedate in the exhibition of it. 

“His whole heart is in his eyes when he looks at 
her,” said one of the company, “ and there is a 
wondrous depth of feeling in his voice when he 
speaks to her.” 

Yes, this was true; even Gertrude herself scarce- 
ly knew the power of that manly love which 
she had awakened. If she had known, if she 
could have realized the depth of that life-current 
which she had stirred, she would have stood awed 

67 


68 


Whose Fault ? 


and affrighted at the responsibility which was 
henceforth laid upon her. 

A woman rarely realizes this sufficiently — this 
responsibility which comes hand in hand with the 
love of that man who seeks to link his life with 
hers. If she did so, fewer lives would be marred 
and ruined, fewer homes desolated, and more men 
would stand nobly among the ranks of God’s great 
workers. Every one had been pleased with Mrs. 
Yates and her management of the wedding; even 
the Eversons, to whom the occasion was bald and 
meaningless without the familiar Prayer Book form, 
were quite charmed by Sylvie in her capacities as 
hostess and as sister of the bride. 

She was so genial, so cordial, that every one was 
made to feel comfortable; was so bright and so 
cheerful that no one save her own husband and 
Gertrude could begin to suspect what a pain was 
in her heart all the while. 

Good old Dr. Grey, who had held both Sylvie 
and Gertrude in his arms as babies, fulfilled his 
part equally well ; but as he sat afterwards 
watching the guests who flocked about the young 
couple, he shook his head and said to himself, 
“It is not wise, I fear. She will stray from the 
old paths and imbibe popish notions of ceremo- 
nials and written prayers; or else she will become 


Whose Fault? 


69 


altogether heedless because she cannot agree 
with the views of her husband. She is so aesthetic 
in her tastes, that I am much afraid she will soon 
begin to imagine there is a sort of religion in these 
outward forms and white-robed processions and 
daybreak carollings, poor child ! ” 

Thus the good old gentleman mused on, while 
the happy girl, with her “aesthetic tastes,” flitted 
here and there, saying her good-byes and prepar- 
ing to start away with him for whom she had 
given up all her girlish life and freedom. 

How happy she looked ! It gave Sylvie cour- 
age and strength, to see her; to hear the glad 
music of her voice. It made other hearts glad, 
too. The mother of that “ only son ” was a brave 
woman and very proud; yet she trembled with 
repressed emotion as she listened to the words 
which gave her boy to another — her boy, her one 
precious lad, who had made life so good and 
pleasant to her, who had never failed her in any 
moment of need. What should she do without 
him ? Ah, mothers, only God can comfort you at 
such a time. That “ power of the Highest,” over- 
shadowing, shall cheer you and give you peace. 

Now, it lacked only a little while to the parting. 
Mrs. Everson heard a soft voice behind her say, 
“ Elwood, go and sit with your mother now until 


7o 


Whose Fault? 


the carriage comes; every thing is quite ready, and 
you will not be wanted. See, here is a quiet corner 
in the bay-window.” 

She heard a low reply, and then her son’s arm 
was wound about her, and she was drawn into 
the quiet, curtained corner of which the young 
wife had spoken. The old lady’s heart was very 
full, but she struggled bravely for his sake. 

“ El wood, she is a dear unselfish girl; we cannot 
help loving her.” 

“ Yes, my mother, she is all that you could 
wish,” he answered quietly, and even that mother 
who had borne him did not know aught of the 
depth and power of the love which lay beneath 
those calm words. 

As long as Mrs. Everson lived, it would never 
be forgotten that, in the new pride of her young 
wifehood, in the midst of the joy and glory of her 
marriage festival, the young wife had bade her hus- 
band go aside for a while and sit with his mother. 
Whatever might come in the years that were to 
follow, that at least could never be blotted out. 

In half an hour there was a soft movement of the 
curtain and the bride’s sweet face looked in. Mrs. 
Everson held out her arms. 

“ My daughter ! My dear little daughter ! ” 

“ I will try to be that to you, dear mother,” she 


Whose Fault ? 


7 1 

whispered, blushing, her downcast eyes bright with 
tears. 

Then they were summoned; and the farewells 
were quickly said. Bright and cheerful to the last, 
Gertrude’s face looked back from the carriage win- 
dow, like a gleam of sunlight touching the little 
group in the doorway. 

All was over, and the mother and the sisters 
turned silently to the lonely rooms. Sylvie de- 
tained Mrs. Everson for a little rest, and every 
one tried to be cheerful. 

When the mother and her daughters were about 
to return home, Mr. Yates constituted himself their 
escort, declaring in his own cheery way that they 
must use him as their son and brother for the 
time being, “ and notice how well Mrs. Yates had 
trained him ” in all those things which it is impor- 
tant a man should observe. 

He succeeded at least in bringing a certain 
cheer to tkeir over-full hearts, and in making him- 
self the object of their profound gratitude and re- 
gard. 

This duty performed, Stewart returned home, 
again to become the consoler; this time to his wife, 
who had well-nigh broken down after the long 
ordeal through which she had maintained so brave 
and unselfish a part. 


72 


Whose Fault ? 


“Well, Sylvie, you have one source of solid 
comfort and that is that Trudie has chosen such a 
fine man. He is no boy, to worry her with his 
foolish freaks, and to expect to find perfection in 
any wife.” 

How fondly he looked at her, for all his saucy 
insinuation, and she could not help laughing as 
her eyes met his. 

“ Of course our Trude we know has been well 
tutored, by all precept and example ; yet these 
young fellows sometimes are very exacting and 
make no end of unhappiness for their wives ; but 
Everson now is a man, every inch of him, and we 
shall find no such trouble coming to cloud our 
sister’s merry sunshine. So I, for one, say that 
to-day’s work has been a good one. Don’t you, 
young master of ceremonies ? ” 

He tossed the baby gaily up and down among 
the flowers and vines and stately palms with which 
the rooms were decorated ; and his wife, though 
she could not help feeling as if she were in a de- 
serted bower, in a fair nest from which the bright 
singing-bird had flown, was yet quite cheered and 
comforted. She sang baby to sleep ; gave her 
orders to the servants ; and even found courage, 
finally, to go to Gertrude’s room, where the sweet 
breath of withering roses brought the tears again, 


Whose Fault ? 


73 


Some things were left there ; many little treas- 
ured belongings, which would doubtless by and 
by go to adorn the bridal chamber in the old 
Everson mansion. Gertrude’s touch seemed fresh 
upon them all ; her bright presence seemed to per- 
vade the room. 

Sylvie drew the curtains with a lingering ten- 
derness, as if shutting in for preservation all the 
sweet and sacred memories. 

Two things she noticed had gone from the 
room on this bridal trip; one was the little velvet- 
boxed Prayer Book and Hymnal, the other a pict- 
ure of herself. 

“ The dear foolish child, to cumber her trunk 
with that,” she said softly, with a quivering smile 
on her lips. Then she knelt by Gertrude’s bed, 
and prayed for her sister and for herself ; that 
grace might be given to both, sufficient for all that 
the future had in store. 

Returning to her husband with a cheerful face, 
just as he was taking a look at his evening paper, 
before retiring to rest, she astonished him by ask- 
ing, “ Then you don’t anticipate any worry for 
Trudie on account of the difference in creed ? ” 

“ My dear unbelieving wife, no ! I have not 
the slightest fear for our Trudie on that account. 
Love can work miracles even with differing 


74 


Whose Fault? 


creeds, and particularly when the lovers are two 
such sensible people as our little sister and Mr. 
Elwood Everson.” 

“ There, Stewart, read away, I won’t be silly any 
more.” 

“Be ‘silly’ just as much and as long as you 
please, my wife. What is your husband made for, 
if not to reply to your queries and to charm away 
your fretting anxieties ? ” and this model husband 
smiled so fondly and so patiently at his wife across 
the paper which he had laid down, that the long- 
ing and the anxiety and the questioning of her 
heart, all resolved themselves into this one wish — 
“ Oh, that Gertrude might have such a man to 
make her life happy ! ” 


VIII. 

“ O YLVIE ! Darling Sylvie ! Here is your sister 

^again. Here is your own old troublesome 
child.” 

But Sylvie knew better. Much as she appre- 
ciated this early coming, (before, as Elwood said, 
“ even before the dust of travel was properly 
removed,”) she knew well, looking into Gertrude 
Everson’s happy eyes that it was not her very own 
old sister come back to her. 

No, this was her “ child” no longer ; this was a 
woman, whose true woman heart had been stirred 
from the depths by a life-long love. Never again 
could that pretty, proud little head wear girl- 
hood’s simple crown ; from henceforth it bore 
womanhood’s coronet, set richly with sweetest 
roses, and also sanctified with the thorns without 
which no fairest rose ever blooms. 

“ My dear, dear Trudie ! My little sister ! 
Welcome home again ! ” 

“ A thousand welcomes to our bonnie sister and 

75 


76 


Whose Fault ? 


to her husband! ” Stewart, ever ready with grace- 
ful good-cheer to cover his wife’s tender emotion 
and give her time to recover herself, kissed Ger- 
trude fondly, and then went forward to greet Mr. 
Everson, who had stood somewhat back, realizing 
what this meeting must be to the sisters. 

“ Forgive me, Elwood, my dear brother. I 
know you can understand and will appreciate my 
— my — ” 

“ Yes, Sister Sylvie; that is all right,” replied 
the deep, quiet voice, and Elwood stepped forward 
to bestow his brotherly kiss. 

“ Sylvie dear, will you come around to the house? 
You know the mother is there; and she wants her 
big boy, as it is natural she should, after his long 
absence. Mother bade us ask you and Stewart to 
come back with us; that we might all be together 
this first evening.” 

The young wife said it all very sweetly, with no 
affectation and no embarrassment; only a quiet 
realization of what was required of her at this time. 
It was no wonder that the husband’s heart was full 
of happy pride as he looked and listened. 

“ Certainly we will go, dear, and count it a very 
great kindness on the part of Mrs. Everson.” 

She tried to say, and meant to say, “ on the part 
of your mother;” but the words failed her; she 


Whose Fault? 


77 


could not give them utterance; the remembrance 
was too vivid of that other mother, whose sweet, 
pale face had been turned so fondly on her “ little 
Gertrude 7> at the last hour. 

In a short time, the four people were on their 
way together to the bride’s new home. It was a 
glad day in that home. The beloved son and 
brother had come back again; trifling frets and 
cares all disappeared in the face of that one joyful 
fact; and all was sunshine and generous feeling. 

The elderly lady went forward to greet her 
guests with gracious courtesy. 

“ I thank you so much for coming,” she said. “I 
fear' I have been asking a great deal of you; but 
you see I have only one boy,” smiling while tears 
shone in her eyes. 

“ Indeed, Mrs. Everson, we thank you for letting 
us come to share with you your son’s presence 
to-day.” 

Amid general good-will, the travellers sat down 
to tell of their trip, which had been an unusually 
pleasant one, without anything to mar its perfect 
brightness. 

“ As soon as my wife can persuade mother to 
accompany us, we shall cross the ocean,” said 
Elwood, when some one spoke of the length of his 
wedding journey. “ I have been exerting all my 


78 


Whose Fault f 


powers of persuasion for a long time, but un- 
successfully.” 

The old lady shook her head smilingly. “ No, 
my son; if I had not courage sufficient for the un- 
dertaking in my younger days, I am quite sure 
that I cannot now join the modern crowd of 
tourists.” 

She repeated the words “my son” with much 
the same fond accent as that son himself used 
when he said “ my wife.” 

In truth Elwood was much like his mother in 
every respect; there was a gentleness combined 
with a force of character in each which is some- 
what rare to see. 

“ You and Gertrude shall go together sometime, 
when I feel that I can spare you,” she added, lay- 
ing her hand affectionately upon Gertrude’s; but 
Gertrude knew very well that there was small prob- 
ability of her husband leaving his mother to go 
abroad, much as he would have enjoyed such a 
trip with his wife. She fancied that the elder lady 
understood this, too, and felt a certain pride in it. 

Gertrude took her sister up-stairs during the 
evening to show her the two handsome rooms, 
adjoining each other, which had been given to her. 

“ Are they not lovely ? Here is El wood’s desk, 
and here are his books, and here is my new work- 


Whose Fault? 


79 


table,” an elegant and complete affair which 
had been brought from across the ocean by one 
of Elwood’s friends, at his special request. “ On 
purpose for me. Was it not thoughtful ? ” 

“ Why, yes, darling, you ought to be a happy 
little woman.” 

“ And that am I,” the girl-wife replied, waltzing 
about for one moment like her own old self. 

Her sister watched with a trembling smile and 
a little, vague pain at her heart ; somehow this 
fond, foolish woman could not rid her mind of a 
certain gloomy picture of the four sisters down- 
stairs. Rica was well enough, a dear girl of 
whose affection one felt sure ; but the other three ! 
In her excited imagination they seemed to array 
themselves like a body-guard about their beloved 
brother, that the nearer and dearer young wife 
might not take possession of him altogether. 

‘‘But, Trude dear, you must be ‘wise as a ser- 
pent/ you know. All wives have to be so.” 

“ Do they ? Well, I’ll try, Sylvie ; but I never 
was renowned for my wisdom you know.” 

She laughed gaily. Somehow, on that day of 
glad reunion she had returned to her old girlish 
gaiety, and felt no weight of womanhood’s re- 
sponsibility. 

“ Life is so good, Sylvie dear, I can sing and be 


8o 


Whose Fault? 


happy ; but I don’t know about being wise. Try 
this great, luxurious chair ; isn’t it complete ? El- 
wood says it is mine ; but I think he fills it much 
better. I prefer this little fairy-like one which 
just reaches my work-table so nicely ; and, Sylvie, 
when you bring baby round to spend the day with 
me he can sleep in that great lovely chair.” 

“Just the thing,” responded her sister, catching 
a little of the new wife’s merry spirit. 

“It was so nice of mother and the girls,” Ger- 
trude explained, as they went down-stairs, “ to 
come home from the sea-side early, on purpose to 
see that the house was all prepared and bright for 
our return ; we had not expected any such thing. 
We were going to stay over a night with you, and 

then go on down to Beach, to be with them ; 

but I am very glad we are settled. I have had so 
much travelling — and such delightful travelling, 
too — that I am altogether satisfied for this season. 
You will not go away again, will you, Sylvie ? ” 

“ Not if baby keeps well ; and I think he seems 
much stronger, since our mountain vacation. I 
must tell you about it when we have time for a 
good long talk together.” 

The Everson home was the scene of quite an in- 
formal reception on that evening. The news had 
spread among their friends that the newly-married 


Whose Fault? 


81 


couple had returned from their trip ; and many 
who were at home again from sea-shore and moun- 
tain “ ran in ” to welcome the young couple. 

Gertrude was proud to see how her husband was 
honored by men of standing and power ; how his 
opinion was sought on great questions ; and how 
calmly and with assurance he spoke upon many 
important matters. And he, with all his learning, 
and high talents, had loved her ! Not only that, 
but he was equally proud of her, as she realized 
when he presented to his friends “ My wife,” with 
that wondrous tenderness in the utterance of the 
words ; and when he asked her to sing, leading 
her to the piano, and choosing the songs for her. 

“ Yes, I am very happy,” she said again to her- 
self, as she had said it to Sylvie ; and when all the 
friends were gone, and the late hour found each of 
the family weary and ready for rest, Elwood, 
Prayer Book in hand, drew her to a seat by his 
side. 

Then for the first time she listened to that 
beautiful Form of Family Prayer which the 
Church has given her children, that none — how- 
ever weak or slow of speech — need go to an un- 
sanctified rest. 

The young wife’s heart was deeply touched as 
her husband uttered with earnest reverence those 


82 


Whose Fault? 


simple and beautiful petitions. She wondered that 
she had not noticed them before, in looking over 
her own little Prayer Book. Ah ! there were 
many beauties hidden there which she had yet to 
discover. 


“ T^LWOOD dear, it is our first Sunday at 
home — and — I would so like to sit in the 
old pew by Sylvie’s side, just to be with her, 
you know. It isn’t the church that I care for; I 
am ready to go where you prefer; only just to-day, 
if you were willing, I do long to be in the old 
childhood spot.” 

She had been standing by the open window, 
breathing in the fragrance of the September morn- 
ing; she turned slowly toward him with such a 
sweet, pleading look in her eyes that he could not 
resist caressing her and answering, “ Certainly, 
my wife, we will go where you wish. It is only 
natural that you should want to be with your sis- 
ter on this first home Sunday. I can worship God 
anywhere, since He has been so gracious to me 
and given me such a wife.” 

She saw his rare smile and felt content. It 
must be all right since Elwood agreed so readily. 

Si 


8 4 


Whose Fault? 


“ Thank you, my husband,” and she made the 
strong man very happy with one of her shy and 
seldom-offered caresses. He did not even then 
think how he would miss the Church service so 
dear to him; the only passing thought of trouble, 
was of how his sisters would hear the news. Like 
the manly man that he was through and through, 
he went straight to the subject, with calm unflinch- 
ing assurance of being in the right. He did not 
wait for one of his sisters to ask the question, as 
he felt sure they would do. He said simply, “ I 
am going to take Gertrude to her old place, this 
morning, in the pew by the side of her sister 
where she has sat for so many years.” 

Strange to say, it was Rica who made the first 
exclamation of disappointment: but it was only 
disappointment because she had counted on 
Trude’s company at church. 

“ Oh, that is too bad! I thought we were all 
going together.” 

“ There will be plenty of other Sundays for that, 
Rica,” answered her brother, smiling at her child- 
ish look of disappointment. 

“ I wanted so to go there this first Sunday, 
Rica. I hope you won’t think that I am selfish! ” 
Her little speech was intended for others as well 
as for Rica; and she felt a little hurt at the silence 


Whose Fault ? 


85 


which they kept, leaving the youngest sister to 
answer for all. 

“ Selfish indeed! You? Why, we know you, 
Trudie; and it is the knowing you which makes 
me want to have you at church with me, you see; 
but never mind, as Wood says, there are plenty of 
Sundays besides this one, and I can wait.” 

Elwood looked his thanks; the • other sisters 
keeping silence, Mrs. Everson came to the relief, 
and said, in her quiet, pleasant way, “ I suspect, 
if the truth were told, we are all of us somewhat 
disappointed at not having you and Elwood with 
us at church, but we must try to be unselfish. 
Remember, girls, that Gertrude is Mrs. Yates’ one, 
only sister, and it is altogether natural that they 
should wish to worship side by side on this 
especial Sunday.” 

“ Then you will come with us to Evening Ser- 
vice, won’t you, Trudie ?” asked the widow, being 
the first to recover from the feeling of indignant 
disappointment which had been general among the 
three sisters. 

Gertrude smiled pleasantly, and answered, “ I 
think I may promise that very gladly, Sarah,” and 
the little discussion ended by Rica’s rising and 
saying she must hurry off to Sunday School. 

Before they started for Church Elwood went to 


86 


Whose Fault? 


his mother’s room, and said calmly, “ Mother, 
Sylvie is Gertrude’s only sister, as you so kindly 
reminded the girls at breakfast; she has been a 
mother to her as well all these years since their 
mother died, and I want to be very generous to- 
ward her even when her wishes do not accord 
entirely with my own. I feel sure that she will 
want Gertrude and me to go home to dinner with 
her to-day; I should not be surprised if she asked 
this for every Sunday. I wanted to ask you, if 
you would think it a just and pleasant arrange- 
ment that we should go there every other Sun- 
day and be at home on the alternate Sundays ? ” 

His words and manner had been so respectful 
and so deliberate, showing no least trace of pas- 
sion, that the mother had been able to take in the 
full force of his argument and to see things just as 
he wished that she should. She was, also, well 
pleased at his coming to her in the old way, doing 
her that honor which a son should ever render to 
his mother. 

“ I fully appreciate all that you tell me, my 
boy, and I think your plan a very wise one, which 
will doubtless save any hard feeling on either side. 
I agree to it with all my heart, and if you do not 
return home to dinner to-day, I will explain all to 
the girls.” 


Whose Fault ? 87 

“ Thank you, mother,” and he bent to kiss her 
cheek before he passed out. 

Mrs. Everson said to herself, as she slowly 
walked to her writing-table and took up her 
Prayer Book, “ Whatever disappointments the 
Lord sees'fit to send my boy in the future, he will 
certainly always be sure of that blessing which is 
promised to those who honor father and mother.” 

The good lady had to be very wise that day, 
and she knew it. 

Before again encountering her daughters, she 
knelt in earnest prayer for strength and guidance, 
and did not leave her room till it was time to start 
for service. Then, meeting her daughters, she 
said gently, “ Now, my children, let us put from 
us, with strong will, every vexing thought, and 
remember only that we are going to worship Him 
who orders all things, both in Heaven and on the 
earth. We want His peace in our hearts to-day.” 

Her words had their effect; Mrs. Richards and 
Rica took their usual places on either side of the 
mother, and with their yielding to the mother’s 
wishes came the reward of peace. Gertrude’s 
heart was a little troubled as she walked away 
with her husband. 

“ I am afraid the girls felt hurt, Elwood,” she 
said with a little tremor in her tone. 


88 


Whose Fault? 


“ I think not, dear; perhaps a little disappointed 
at not having you with them. It is really very 
difficult for those who have lived all their lives in 
the Church, and never have known anything else, 
to understand how any one can be happy and sat- 
isfied in any other place on Sunday. To them, 
there doesn’t seem to be anything but the Church; 
you will be patient with them, I know, my wife.” 

“ Indeed I will, and try my best to please them. 
It is only Sylvie who has drawn me so strongly 
this morning,” there was a pathos in her words and 
tone which touched the strong man’s heart. 

“Yes, darling, I understand.” 

Then he told her how his mother had spoken, 
and that together with the touch of Sylvie’s hand 
closing upon her own as she took her place beside 
her, drove away the last lingering shadow and 
made the young wife quite happy. 

It was as Elwood had expected, Stewart and 
Sylvie had settled it in their own minds that they 
were to have “Trudie”for the Sunday’s dinner; 
“and of course Trudie includes Brother Elwood,” 
said Mrs. Yates, in a most cordial way. 

“ Indeed she does, Sister Sylvie, and so we will 
thank you and accept your kind invitation for to- 
day, and you and Gertrude can arrange for the 
future at your leisure.” 


Whose Fault? 89 

Gertrude felt that he trusted her completely, and 
her heart was very glad. 

This earthly love is a strong power to draw us 
away from any other allegiance, as Elwood Everson 
realized that Sunday morning. Ever and anon, 
through the prayers and the sermon of good old 
Dr. Grey there arose a great longing in the young 
husband’s heart for the beautiful accustomed lit- 
urgy of the Church, but each time that longing 
was stilled by the thought of that dear girl wife 
at his side, by the touch of her fingers as they held 
the hymn book between them. His ear seemed 
strained to catch some sound of the glorious old 
“ Te Deum,” or of the “ Holy, Holy, Holy,” which 
was the heart’s universal cry at that Trinity sea- 
son. But he heard his wife’s gentle breathing, he 
looked down into her sweet face, and forgot all 
things else. 

He had once had happy dreams of the sanctify- 
ing of his marriage day by a celebration of the Holy 
Eucharist, but these dreams had vanished long 
ago, and now he was only waiting patiently for 
the wife he loved so well to learn the beauty of 
that Order for the Administration of the Lord’s 
Supper which the Prayer Book contained. He 
knew she would learn it in time; for he prayed 
daily that she might. He could afford to be pa- 


90 


Whose Fault ? 


tient, for God had given into his keeping a sweet 
and loving woman, wise in many ways, yet simple 
as a child to trust where her heart had found its 
happy resting-place. 

“ Your brother will not leave the dear Mother 
Church surely ? ” questioned the young assistant 
of St. Ann’s, the Rev. Robert Sherwood, coming 
forward as the ladies were leaving the church 
steps. 

“ Oh no, there is no danger of that; it is only 
that he .is not thoroughly settled down yet,” and 
Mrs. Everson with quiet dignity changed the sub- 
ject, as the young clergyman followed them out, 
walking by Grace’s side. 

What Grace said to him over and above that as 
he walked on with her, the others being ahead, was 
not known. But it appeared at dinner-time, and 
afterwards, that Grace was less tender than the 
others, and less lenient toward the sister-in-law 
who had not adopted her husband’s Church with 
such alacrity as had been looked for. 


X. 

“ HHRUDIE, will you go to service with us this 
A morning ? ” 

“ To service, Rica, on Tuesday? What for, 
dear girl ? ” 

“It is the Feast of Saint Michael and All An- 
gels. Don’t you remember Mr. Sherwood gave 
notice of it on Sunday ? ” 

“ Why, yes; I do remember, now you speak of it; 
but you will have to excuse me this time, Rica, 
please. I promised Sylvie to help her with Baby 
Prince’s new suit; she depends on me always to fit 
the little rogue, he is so restless ! ” 

Rica sighed, but said nothing. Her sister-in- 
law took note of the sigh. 

“What is it, Rica? Do you care much ? Who 
is Saint Michael anyhow, and all the angels ? ” 

“ Oh Trudie ! ” 

“Well, dear, forgive me; I don’t mean to say any- 
thing wrong; but you know I must learn about 
these things.” 


91 


92 


Whose Fault ? 


“Well, certainly I care Trudie; there is no use 
in denying that; and I thought you had not been 
at any saint’s day service yet, you and Wood were 
away at the sea-shore on St. Matthew’s Day; and 
so — ” 

“St. Matthew ! Ah, now that I can understand; 
I knew of St. Matthew; but why should the angels 
be sainted and have days kept for them ? And, oh 
Rica, while we are on the subject, why do you call 
your Church after a Saint Ann ? Who was Ann, 
and why was she sainted ? I have often wondered 
about that.” 

Rica had her own little cause for wonder* too; 
which was that Gertrude did not ask her husband 
about all these things; but she did not express her 
wonder. 

“ A good many Churches have been named after 
or in honor of St. Ann, or St. Anna, as she is 
sometimes called. She was the mother of the 
Blessed Virgin Mary, and was honored in the 
ancient Church. Do you not think it, Trude, 
perfectly proper that we should revere such a 
woman ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, Rica; quite so; and I am really 
very glad to understand this. I am greatly defi- 
cient in such old-time lore, and I shall depend 
upon you to enlighten me.” 


Whose Fault f 


93 


“ I shall be glad enough to teach you, Trude, 
and I feel sure you will grow to like it more and 
more. I am sorry you can’t go with us this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Well, I’ll go some other time, Rica; wait till 
the next saint has his turn, or hers.” 

As she uttered the last sentence in her light 
way Mrs. Richards and Jessie entered the room. 
Rica glanced up quickly, and saw the look of 
surprised horror upon both faces. Gertrude was 
busy over some embroidery for the aforesaid “ Baby 
Prince,” and did not notice anything. 

“We always speak with reverence and respect 
of those things, Gertrude.” 

“ And did not I, Jessie ? Certainly I meant no 
disrespect.” 

“ Why, of course she did not. We have been 
talking about these matters, Trudie and I, and she 
will one day love all these things just the same as 
we do.” 

“ I shall try my best, for your sake, Rica ! ” 
young Mrs. Everson replied, as she rose, work in 
hand, to leave the room. She put her hand affec- 
tionately on Rica’s arm in passing; but her eyes 
were full of tears. 

“ She is getting very sensitive, it seems to me,” 
said Jessie, feeling half ashamed. 


94 


Whose Fault f 


“Well, you didn’t speak at all nicely, and I 
don’t wonder that she feels it,” said the younger 
sister, indignantly. 

“ If you are going to undertake the training 
of our sister-in-law in Church matters, Rica, you 
ought certainly to require a proper amount of re- 
spect on her part for the things which we revere,” 
said Mrs. Richards somewhat severely. 

“ Training ! ” exclaimed the girl, with sarcastic 
emphasis, “ training Elwood’s wife ! No, thank 
you; I think my brother quite capable of doing 
all the training that is needful; but I love Trudie, 
and I shall not hurt her feelings on any account.” 
Then she too left the room. 

By and by all these sat together in God’s 
house, honoring the memory of the great arch- 
angel and praying for the “ succor and de- 
fense ” of those “ holy ones ” who do the Father’s 
bidding. 

Perhaps indeed certain words of the Gospel re- 
garding the offenses which “ must needs come ” fell 
with special meaning upon the ears of those older 
sisters. Had they not just caused an offense, by 
their manner of speaking to one who stood very 
near the Church portals ? Perhaps that one little 
“offense” might turn her aside from the Church 
forever. Ah, how weak were they, after all, as 


Whose F atilt? 9 5 

champions of the Lord ! Well might they pray to 
be succored and defended. 

Then came the beautiful hymn, which is also a 
prayer, and which melted the last remnant of pride 
and vexation from their hearts: 

“ Let us, with zeal like theirs inspired, 

Strive in the Christian race; 

And, freed from every weight of sin, 

Their holy footsteps trace.” 

At least the Church service had always this 
blessing for these zealous sisters, that it gave 
them peace by teaching them their own weak- 
ness and His strength who is the Church’s one 
foundation ! By the time that the service was 
ended, ended too was their vexation and discon- 
tent. 

“Oh Rica, why can’t we keep from fretting each 
other so?” said Jessie, drawing her arm through 
the younger one’s and smiling sadly at her. 

“ Because we were not all born Church people,” 
said Mrs. Richards, looking back at them as if she 
too wanted to acknowledge that she had been 
hasty. 

“ I suppose I must love people more than I love 
the Church,” said Rica, half-tearful, yet smiling at 
her own words. “ People as people, you know, 
instead of people as the Church. It sounds 


9 6 


Whose Fault ? 


strange, and maybe it is wrong, but I can’t help 
it.” 

“ I think perhaps if it is wrong, good may come 
from it in this case, so don’t worry, Rica,” spoke 
up Grace. “ If any other than Elwood brings 
Trudie into the Church, it will be you, with your 
gentle ways and your loving forbearance.” 

All this was very pleasant and altogether prop- 
er, if only the spirit which prompted it had kept 
the pre-eminence through the “ ups and downs ” 
of every-day life. It was too much of an impulse 
which needed the Church’s special arousing, the 
inspiration of her holy days, the incense-breath of 
her services. Far better thus than not at all, it is 
true, yet does the Church teach us that we shall 
go on “from strength to strength;” that the soul’s 
food with which she supplies us through her ser- 
vices, shall keep us ever ready to fulfil all demands, 
vigorous and untiring to do that which the Master 
requires of us, even so filled to overflowing that 
they who stand near us may be gladdened and 
refreshed, taking knowledge of us that we belong 
to Jesus. 

Gertrude had relieved her over-wrought feelings 
by a little cry behind Baby Prince’s golden curls, 
and was duly comforted by Sylvie, and when she 
returned with her husband at dinner-time, she 


Whose Fault f 


97 


appeared her usual gay self. Rica kissed her with 
enthusiasm, and wondered, laughingly, “how it 
was that Wood always knew just where to find his 
wife when she was out.” 

“ Well you see, Rica, I have fallen into a sort 
of habit of looking in at Mrs. Yates’ front windows 
as I go by, and when I see there a young lady who 
very much resembles my little wife and who smiles 
and nods encouragingly at me, why I go in with- 
out further invitation. Take warning all of you 
against the force of habit! ” 

Elwood felt unusually merry, just then ; he had 
been pleased at Rica’s loving reception of his wife ; 
he appreciated anything of that kind, and his 
youngest sister was daily endearing herself to him 
by such little efforts and actions of kindness. The 
little cloud seemed likely to pass over, leaving the 
habitual clear sky, thanks to the persistent sun- 
shine of two young loving hearts. 

“ We need say nothing to Trude ; she seems to 
feel all right ; things do not go very deep with 
her.” Thus the older sisters concluded among 
themselves, congratulating one another that there 
was to be no “ foolish fuss.” They did not want 
any such thing, “ for dear Wood’s sake.” 

But later on in the evening, as Jessie, coming in 
from a drive with her affianced, went to her room, 


98 


Whose Fault? 


Gertrude passed quietly from the parlor and fol- 
lowed her up-stairs. 

“ Sister Jessie, may I say a word to you ? I fear 
I was a little irreverent in my way of speaking 
this morning, and — a — little bit cross too at be- 
ing told of it. I hope you will forgive and for- 
get ? ” 

“ Why, dear child, of course ; there was fault on 
both sides, I think ; for I am sure that I spoke too 
hastily. You see, Gertrude, I always forget that 
you are not one with us in just that matter. I 
only wish you were, dear,” she added, putting her 
arm through Gertrude’s and looking into the 
bright face which had so become the star lighting 
all her sedate brother’s life. 

“I wish so too, Jessie, since you care so much.” 

Elwood had noticed his wife’s absence from the 
room and her return in company with Jessie ; and 
when Gertrude and he were together in their own 
room that night, he asked her about it. She told 
him all, and ended by expressing her regret at her 
own careless words. 

“ It is just my foolish, childish way of speaking ; 
and with Rica it never made any difference ; she 
knows me well enough to be sure that I mean to 
be right, even when I blunder over a delicate sub- 
ject.” 


Whose Fault? 


99 


“ Ah yes, such an inveterate blunderer as she is, 
this little wife of mine,” answered Elwood, draw- 
ing her within his arms and gazing fondly into her 
eyes, which the eager tears had somewhat dimmed. 
“ I marvel that we can get on at all with her un- 
couth ways and words ! ” 

“Oh well, dear, you are kind enough not to cast 
the light of criticism upon my unmeasured utter- 
ances ; there is another light which you throw 
over all my imperfections. I wish it may never 
grow dim ; but the girls are different, and I think 
they are disappointed because I do not become a 
Churchwoman as readily as they had hoped. I do 
begin to love your Sunday services, Elwood, and 
if they will be patient with me and give me a little 
time I dare say I shall learn to appreciate and en- 
joy these other days.” 

“ Certainly, my darling, that is just what your 
husband has been saying in his own heart all 
along, and so we shall all be hopeful and patient, 
and my little wife must let nothing trouble her for 
a moment, since she is doing just right in this 
matter, but she must be her own dear bright- 
hearted self.” 


XI 


ERTRUDE had resolved to “look up” these 



things for herself, and to find out beforehand 
when the next holy day would be. She studied 
her little Prayer Book in private far more than any 
one gave her credit for doing. Those were golden 
days to the new husband and wife ; they were 
drinking life’s rich, red wine together, and with a 
glad trust they neither saw nor thought of any 
dregs beneath the sparkling draught, dreamed of 
no bitterness which could be mingled with such a 
sweet cup. Many a ride together in the Park, or 
down the now quiet beach drive had they ; and 
the blood coursed with joyous vigor through their 


veins, 


Sylvie and Baby Prince, who was now running 
about with true boyish independence, also had 
many pleasant trips with Gertrude, during the 
October days; impromptu excursions, drives, and 
small picnic parties, were indulged in to quite an 
extent. The rare, beautiful days made them all 


ioo 


Whose Fault? 


IOI 


very happy, and laid a sweet peace upon each heart. 
Happiness as well as grief leads the true soul to 
God; and the young wife who talked not so much 
of her religion as she strove to live it out day by 
day, found her heart drawn more and more toward 
the Source and Fountain of all joy. She thought 
more of holy things, of the pure heart which shall 
“see God;” of the life whose gladness we can only 
measure by our little gladness here below. She 
longed to live nearer to that God who had so 
blessed her, who had given her life’s best things in 
such large measure. Her little Prayer Book was 
in her hands almost as frequently as was her Bible; 
she marvelled at its collection of beautiful prayers, 
she wanted to ask about them, how they came 
there, where from, but she was timid and could not 
decide whether she should ask her husband or 
Rica. In how many of those Collects was “thy 
Church,” “ Thy household the Church,” mentioned 

% 

with fervent petition for blessing! 

“ I will try to love that Church with all 
my heart,” she said, “ and to understand its 
ways.” 

One morning, it was the 18th of October, Sylvie 
ran in early to see her sister. Gertrude had been 
particularly bright and affectionate to her sisters-in- 
law that morning, feeling that she was about to 


102 


Whose Fatilt? 


give them a pleasure, and she went to greet Sylvie 
with the same radiant face. 

“ A glorious morning, isn’t it? Why didn’t you 
bring Prince ? ” 

“ Oh, I can’t stay, Trudie; I only ran around to 
get you; the Massons have sent me word of their 
arrival, and that they are coming to spend the 
day with me. I want you to help me entertain 
them.” 

Gertrude’s face fell. 

“ Oh Sylvie, I cannot, dear.” 

“ Cannot ! Why ? Are you going anywhere with 
Elwood ? ” 

“ Not with Elwood, that I know of ; but, dear 
sister, it is one of the saints’ days on which they 
have church, and I promised myself, you remember, 
that I would go the very next time to please them; 
they were all so disappointed because I did not go 
the last time.” 

“And so you think it is my turn to be disap- 
pointed now, ” said Sylvie smiling, yet looking 
really very much chagrined. 

“ You know better than that,” Gertrude sighed, 
while she strove to be merry. 

“ If you would let me — oh, I have it! I’ll come 
to luncheon; that will make it all right, dear. 
There won’t be much entertaining to do before that. 


Whose Fault ? 


103 


I will come right from church; but do not wait for 
me in case I should be detained.” 

“ Well, Trudie, I will do the best I can; I must 
learn, I suppose, to do without you; but it comes 
hard, dear — you have always been such a help to 
me. 

“ If I had a house of my own, you know, Sylvie,” 
suggested the young wife. 

“ Yes, I know how that would be, only it seems 
to be not the house but the Church which is mak- 
ing the difference in you. There, never mind; it’s 
all right, I suppose, for you to adopt the Church 
of your husband’s family; I will try not to care. 
What time is it that your week-day Church begins ? ” 

“ At eleven, I believe.” 

In a short time Sylvie went away; and Gertrude, 
coming back from seeing her sister out, paused at 
the open sitting-room door to say cheerily, “ May 
I go to church with you this morning? Eleven 
o’clock, isn’t it ? I wasn’t quite sure.” 

“May you? You darling! Indeed you may, 
Trudie.” 

“We shall be so glad; we were hoping you 
might come.” 

“ But mother was almost afraid to trust us to ask 
you, for fear we should annoy or vex you with our 
importunity,” said Jessie. 


104 


Whose Fault? 


Gertrude blushed, and smiled gratefully at her 
mother-in-law. 

“ If she only knew just how hard it is,” was 
the young wife’s troubled thought, for she could 
not forget Sylvie and her look of disappoint- 
ment. 

Now if Gertrude had only known it, her wisest 
plan would have been to go to that mother-in-law 
and tell her plainly of all her wishes and perplexi- 
ties, receiving m return just that motherly counsel 
and help which she needed at this time. Again, 
with all her wisdom and her appreciation of peo- 
ple’s motives and feelings, Mrs. Everson the elder 
was a proud lady, else her present plan would have 
been to go to her son’s young wife and talk plainly 
with her of all this matter, telling her how much 
depended upon it, and how it was truly a part of 
a wife’s love and trust to accept her husband’s 
Church and to be his help-meet in highest things 
by worshipping there at his side. She knew very 
well that her son, like some few men who love 
strongly, carried a certain timidity in his love 
which hindered him from speaking with his wife 
upon this delicate topic. Why then should not 
his mother have put away her proud reserve, and 
been a true mother to this young wife ? Alas, how 
we blunder, even in our love, and walk with folded 


Whose Fault f 


io5 


hands side by side with our dear ones, who are 
reaching out blindly for help and sympathy! 

It was scarcely a success, this first effort of Ger- 
trude’s at pleasing her new relatives and obtaining 
an insight into the Church’s holy day services; her 
heart was too pre-occupied. 

She had no idea what the service was to be, and 
had imagined it would be quite short, allowing her 
time to be at her sister’s before the hour for 
luncheon arrived. With honest intentions she 
strove to put from her all thought of Sylvie and 
her visitors, to fix her mind upon the Prayers and 
lessons ; but with a feeling of dismay she followed 
on one thing after another, prayers and hymns, col- 
lects, epistle and gospel, all beautiful, and which 
she would at any other time have enjoyed and 
appreciated. The sermon or lecture was short ; 
but following it came the most solemn and blessed 
of all services, that Holy Sacrament which is in- 
tended to be “most comfortable” to those who 
receive it worthily, feeling their own need, and 
His great mercy who ordained it as a continual 
remembrance of His love. Alas, for Gertrude, 
her heart shrank from it ; but she knew she could 
not, ought not, refuse ; yet when Rica’s hand nest- 
led in hers with its touch of love and sympathy, 
her heart had no warm, eager response ; she strug- 


io6 


Whose Fault f 


gled bravely, and I think the Divine Master, who 
knows our infirmities, accepting the effort, did not 
refuse His blessing. 

“ Was our service tedious to your new sister ? ” 
asked the young assistant, who had hastened to 
overtake the party of ladies. It was at Grace’s 
side he had paused, with his hat in hand, but while 
she sought for a proper reply to his question, Rica 
turned from where she was walking by her mother’s 
side to say, “No, indeed; Mrs. Everson had an 
engagement and was obliged to hasten ! ” 

“ How I do dislike that man,” she added in an 
undertone. “ He is always prying and asking un- 
necessary questions.” 

“My child!” 

“Well, mother, I hope Trudie won’t meet him 
often, or she will be turned against the Church al- 
together. I do wish that Doctor Dorman was 
able to take the service more frequently. Ger- 
trude has been accustomed to an old and dignified 
gentleman for a minister.” 

Rica’s wrath melted as she recalled with a 
little smile, good old Doctor Grey’s quaint 
ways and words, and his hardness towards Church 
people. 

Meanwhile Gertrude had hastened on and en- 
tered her sister’s house only to find the party just 


Whose Faitlt? 


107 


finishing luncheon; she could have cried with 
mingled vexation and over-wrought emotion. 

“ It was such a long service, Sylvie! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ I thought I should be here much 
earlier. If I had known,” she added, in eager re- 
pentance, “ I should not have gone at all.” 

Sylvie was very forgiving; but the visitors, who 
had been abroad and had only just heard the par- 
ticulars of Gertrude’s marriage, were inclined to 
tease her a little. 

“ Ah, you have gone over completely, I see, 
Gertrude.” 

“ But, Mrs. Everson, is it customary among 
Episcopalians to have such long meetings on 
week-days? In Lent, I know, but at other times 
of year? ” 

“ I think so, Mrs. Masson, from what I have 
learned.” 

“ Well, the Episcopalians are taking on more 
and more of” (she was about to say “of Romish 
ideas,” but checked herself, remembering that Miss 
Preston had married an “Episcopalian”) “of 
form and ceremony and open-church doctrine; 
isn’t it so, Mrs. Everson ? ” 

“ Well, really I have learned very little about 
it,” replied Gertrude quietly. “ I simply endeavor 
to gratify my husband’s family by attending ser- 


io8 


Whose Fault? 


vice with them whenever I can conveniently do 
so, but I fully intended to be here in time to see 
that my Prince was a good little boy and did not 
eat too many nuts.” 

She turned the subject with a laugh, caught up 
the little boy who was following her about, and 
seemed not to be in any wise disturbed by the re- 
marks and questions of the ladies. 

The sisters made a pleasant afternoon for their 
visitors, but for themselves there was an unrest 
and a foreboding which marred their happiness 
and brought the unaccustomed tears when they 
kissed each other at parting. 


XII. 

'VTOUNG Mrs. Everson settled it for herself, in 
this way: “ I will not look them up in my 
Prayer Book nor count ahead any more; it just 
upsets everything; if Sylvie wants me, needs me, 
on any such day, I shall just go to her. If the 
others want me for Church, and I can conveniently 
go, I will do so.” 

She did not see that it was a question of some- 
thing higher than mere personal “ convenience; ” 
she lacked that clear understanding of Christ’s 
Church which alone could make her love and re- 
vere it. Would no one see this, and give to her in 
her need; or must she go on so, loved by such a 
love that its very strength was its own weakness 
and her hindrance? 

About a week after this sweeping resolution of 
the young wife, her sister said to her: 

“ Trudie, we are going to have a ‘ Halloween ’ 
party. You will come and help us enjoy it, won’t 
you? ” 


109 


I IO 


Whose Fault? 


“Yes, indeed! I remember one that we went 
to at Jennie Brower’s some years ago; and it was 
very bright and pleasant. Is this to be your party, 
Sylvie?” 

“ Not exactly. It is the ‘ Aid Circle ’ of our 
church. The ladies have undertaken it as a sort 
of sociable to raise money for the organ fund, and 
they chose my house as being more central and of 
a good size.” 

“ Why, it will be lovely! ” cried Gertrude, with 
a touch of her old girlish fun, “ and everything 
must go off successfully; I will put my shoulder to 
the wheel instantly.” 

“ Oh, I shall be so glad if you will, dear; then I 
shall have no fear for anything.” 

They began, forthwith, to plan a sort of outline 
programme for the entertainment. It was like 
old times to see the two pretty heads bent over 
paper and pencil, while a flow of question and an- 
swer, suggestion and laughter, filled the hour with 
daintyfeminine music. 

The maid put her head in at the door to receive 
an order, and went hastily to the kitchen, brimful 
of news: “ Wasn’t the Misthress after givin’ a large 
party? and wasn’t she and Miss Thrudie makin’ out 
a list of things to be got for the refreshment table ? 
and wasn’t it a lovely thing to see the two of ’em 


Whose Fault? 


1 1 1 


* at it,’ just like as they used to do before Miss 
Thrude got married? ” and so on, until she was 
compelled to pause for breath, and gave cook a 
chance to put in a word. “ Who was to serve the 
supper ? ” that was her inquiry, and the maid could 
not tell; she thought matters had not progressed 
so far as that; so they were obliged to wait further 
developments “ above stairs.” 

It was late when Gertrude started for home, her 
face bright and flushed with pleasant anticipations. 

“ I guess, dear, you might not speak of it just 
yet — not perhaps until the invitations are sent out. 
I don’t know exactly how those matters will be 
arranged.” 

“ All right, dear, no one is ever inquisitive ! ” 
responded the young wife, hastening away to 
be in time to dress for dinner before Elwood 
came. 

She had only “ run in ” at her old home that 
morning, not intending any visit, but had spent 
the day there. 

As she walked briskly through the crisp October 
air, her thoughts reverted to the last words of her 
sister. 

No, she was never troubled by any curiosity nor 
questioning on the part of her husband’s relatives. 
She could have borne more of it with perfect com- 


I 12 


Whose Fault? 


posure. Indeed, she sometimes longed for a little 
home-like inquisitiveness, such as is common be- 
tween sisters. Rica alone ever ventured anything 
of that sort, and she with such a delicate tact, 
such a loving care that it seemed almost formal. 
Yet she loved Rica fondly, and hoped soon to 
get back to that old school-day freedom of ques- 
tion and speech which once had existed between 
them. 

That something was going on the mother and 
sisters suspected by the many visits and the fre- 
quent messages between Gertrude and Sylvie, but 
they did not really know what it was, until a few 
days previous to the affair, when Mrs. Yates herself 
asked them informally to come to her house on 
“ Halloween.” 

There was very little said. Mrs. Everson thanked 
her visitor for her daughters and herself, but did 
not say whether or not they would accept, and 
Mrs. Yates, noticing this omission, was too proud 
to press the matter further. 

At the dinner table that evening, Gertrude told 
her husband about it, and in Sylvie’s name asked 
him to go. 

“ I hope the others will go! ” she said, glancing 
from him to those about the table, when for the 
first time she discovered that her own brightness 


Whose Fault ? 


ii3 

was in no wise reflected upon the faces of her hus- 
band’s relatives. 

“ Let me see,” Elwood was saying when she 
looked back to him. His eyes were on his plate, 
except as he raised them to hers now and then 
while he spoke. “ Let me see — my dear, what day 
in the week is that ? I must certainly try to go 
with you. We will talk it over together by-and- 
by. What an indefatigable worker our sister is ! ” 
with a clear pronunciation of the personal pronoun 
that made his wife’s heart thrill with a proud 
gladness. 

“Yes, indeed! Sylvie is so thoroughly unselfish 
in it all, too. No matter how troublesome or diffi- 
cult an undertaking is, if it will do any good to 
any one, she is ready for it! ” 

The young wife, conscious that a little shadow 
had crossed her sunshine, yet spoke brightly and 
with gentle pleasure agreed to her husband’s 
praises of Sylvie. 

For the others, they had heard Elwood’s calm 
“ We will talk it over together,” and knew what 
it meant. Therefore, though they said little, they 
honestly tried to keep under their perturbed emo- 
tions, and to help in making the meal a cheerful 
one. 

There were always subjects enough in this well- 


Whose Fault f 


114 

educated, well-read household, and usually suffi- 
cient judgment and tact, as also Christian forbear- 
ance, to prevent any unpleasant silence when a cer- 
tain topic must be left untouched. There was a late 
book to be discussed, some new music — oratorio or 
opera — a popular question or a Church subject; 
always something of which one or another availed 
herself readily, and so the smooth flow of conversa- 
tion was kept unchecked, and no discordant note 
broke the general household harmony. 

Gertrude Everson thought her husband unusu- 
ally quiet and absorbed all that evening. She 
tried to conjecture what the trouble was. 

Did it not seem as if all of Sylvie’s plans and 
projects met with cool refusal or disfavor ? No 
one ever seemed enthusiastic over them. Her 
Sylvie, who was ever so thoughtful for others, so 
kind and generous! Why was it ? But she deter- 
mined to be just, not to make herself unhappy by 
any unwarranted conclusions. 

The somewhat lengthy evening was over at last, 
prayers were read, and with a cheery “good night 
Gertrude passed to her room. 

Elwood was even more loving and gentle than 
usual. Was he going to hurt her by refusing 
Sylvie’s invitation ? Oh, if he would but speak! 

She did not know how hard it was for him to do 


Whose Fault ? 


1 15 

so. She made a brave effort and went to him as 
he sat putting together some scattered papers 
from his desk. Taking a low seat and resting her 
clasped hands upon his arm, she smiled up into his 
face — one of her own bright smiles which lighted 
every feature. 

“I know I am -very impatient, Elwood, but I do 
so want to know if you can go! ” 

How pretty she looked to him as he turned 
toward her! Her unbound hair caught the 
light in its wavy folds. It lay upon his hand 
as he put his arm about her, and its touch thrilled 
him. 

“‘There’s magic in the web of it!’” he said, 
with an effort at playfulness, caressing with a won- 
drous tenderness the shining tresses. “ They are 
like the golden threads of love which bind me fast 
— fast! Oh, my darling, I wish there might never 
come a question between us! ” 

“ But, Elwood, it shall not come between us, you 
know! Nothing ever shall! Tell me just what 
you think, and what you want, and I shall be quite 
satisfied. I trust my husband wholly.” 

She lifted her head proudly, and her clear eyes 
looked steadfastly into his. 

“ Thank you, dear wife; now I will try to tell 
you.” 


Whose Fault f 


1 16 

Then, with great pains and gentleness he 
explained to her how “Halloween” preceded 
the most sweet and holy Feast of All Saints, 
how the Church cherished that festival as one 
most solemn and sacred, yearly numbering her 
departed ones and praying for grace to follow on 
in the way made beautiful by so great and noble 
an army. 

“ It has become to us even more sacred since 
my father’s death, as it always is to those who 
have seen their dear ones pass away, and it has 
been my custom each year, after service, to accom- 
pany my mother and sisters to my father’s grave, 
which they make bright with flowers, in token of 
our hope beyond this life and our faith in that 
Lord who is the Resurrection and the Life.” 

“Oh! why did they not tell me?” she broke in 
excitedly. “How could they leave me in ignor- 
ance? It was not kind! I am so sorry! ” 

He passed his hand fondly over her head, which 
rested upon his shoulder. 

“There, darling, it is all right; there is no harm. 
All Hallow Eve has long been a time for gather- 
ings and friendly joys ; it is not wrong ; you must 
go and enjoy the evening with your sister and 
friends, and let me come quietly in for half an 
hour or so before you break up. If only you and I 


Whose Fault ? 


ii 7 


were concerned, my wife, I should unquestionably 
spend the whole evening with you, but you know 
we must often consider others whom our actions 
might affect.” 

“ But, Elwood, you need not come at all; Stew- 
art will bring me home, and I don’t think I care to 
go at all without you. I have become interested 
in it so through helping Sylvie, but I had rather 
stay with you here.” 

“ Think how disappointed your sister Sylvie 
would be, and all the rest, if you were not there. 
Oh no, I think it is your duty to fulfil this engage- 
ment, dear, and I shall be glad to meet you there 
at the close of the evening. Then — ” he hesi- 
tated, he wanted her to feel entirely free to choose 
for herself ; yet oh how his heart would yearn for 
her on the coming day of holy and tender mem- 
ories. 

“ Well, my husband, what then ? ” 

She too hesitated; she wondered if he cared, if 
he would want her then. She had not known his 
father; the day had no sacred memories for her; 
would she not intrude upon his solemn hours ? 
Alas, for these two who were “so near and yet so 
far ” ! What would yet be needed to clear away 
that little mist of doubt that they might speak 
heart to heart ? 


1 18 


Whose Fault? 


“ Well, darling, if you would — if you cared to be 
with us at service and afterwards, it would make 
me so glad to have you.” 

“ Would it ? Then if you think I should not be 
to the others as an intruder, I will go with you.” 


XIII. 

A PARTY ! A Presbyterian party ! And on 
' the Eve of All Saints’ Day! I wonder at 
Elwood, I do certainly wonder at him.” 

“ But, Sarah, many Church people attend those 
festivities; it is a very ancient sort of pastime, 
and — ” 

“ Being ancient does not necessarily make a 
thing right,” suggested Grace, rather snappishly. 

“ I have noticed that it often covers a multitude 
of sins though,” replied Rica with a touch of sar- 
casm in her manner, “ and I was about to say, 
Sarah, that the fact of the party being ‘ Presby- 
terian,’ as you call it, only adds to its propriety; 
for the object is to help in furnishing the Sunday 
School room; and that you’ll allow is a good 
motive.” 

“ Very good and proper for those people, Rica, 
but not for Church members ! ” 

“ Dear me, how wrong it all was! I wonder what 
Elwood will agree to next. This marrying a — ” 

119 


120 


Whose Fault? 


“Sh— ! ” 

A light step outside the door interrupted the 
excited talk and Gertrude entered, music in hand. 
She could not help noticing the awkward pause, 
the sudden silence which seemed to have fallen 
among them at her appearance, and the tell-tale 
looks upon their faces. 

A proud and defiant color flashed in her 
cheeks. 

Had not her husband said she was right ? Had 
they not settled it all between them and agreed 
perfectly, so that no least shade had come over 
their love ? Why then should others trouble 
themselves about the matter, as these were evi- 
dently doing ? What right had any one to dis- 
cuss the actions and the decisions of a husband and 
wife ? 

All this passed through her mind in an instant, 
as she walked to the piano, where she placed her 
music upon the rack, and then saying, “Excuse me 
for intruding upon your conversation,” passed 
quickly from the room. 

It had all been so sudden that not one of the 
sisters had regained composure enough to say a 
word. Indeed, what could be said ? They knew 
very well that Gertrude understood the whole 
matter. 


Whose Fault f 


I 21 


“ How absurd ! Why couldn’t some one go on 
talking, saying something 2” exclaimed Grace. 

“ Well I don’t know that it matters much after 
all,” said Mrs. Richards, sighing wearily; we are 
not children, we are too old to sit still and see our 
only brother, our pride and joy, drawn away from 
the accustomed paths of rectitude and wisdom 
without uttering a protest. Gertrude knew what 
she was doing when she married a Churchman; she 
understood all our feelings upon such subjects, and 
all our habits and wishes; I don’t therefore see 
any reason that we should seal our lips before her 
now and let her drag Elwood into unprofitable 
ways while we sigh to one another behind the 
scenes.” 

“ Well if your plan is to find fault with Trudie 
and make her unhappy, there has been a very good 
beginning made this morning,” said Rica, whose 
heart was a perfect cauldron of tumultuous and 
seething emotions, now one feeling uppermost, now 
another. 

The door opened again, and Mrs. Everson the 
elder came in, looking greatly troubled. 

“ Girls, I hope you have not been speaking un- 
kindly to Gertrude, I met her on the stairs and 
she was so strange and quiet.” 

They told her how it had been. 


122 


Whose Fault ? 


“ I am sorry, very sorry, my children.” 

“But mother — ” began the eldest daughter, 
again offering her opinion that no more “hushing 
up ” should be done, that matters should be freely 
discussed before and with Gertrude, in which opin- 
ion, Jessie fully coincided. 

“ El wood’s wife will never be drawn into the 
Church by our discussions,” said Rica sarcastically. 

“ No, discussions are dangerous things, quiet 
and constant example is far more effective,” said 
the mother. “ You are too impatient, my children. 
Do you remember yesterday’s Collect ? ” 

Jessie smiled, and shook her head. 

“Why, mother dear, how can we live in ‘ unity 
of spirit ’ with a Presbyterian ? ” 

There was a scornful ring in her voice which 
made her mother’s heart sad. 

“ Besides, mother, were we not told in yester- 
day’s Epistle that it was our duty to ‘ contend 
earnestly for the faith? ’ It seems that we must 
have some contention.” 

“Yes, Christ’s Church may live in such unity of 
spirit together, and may so contend with loving 
zeal for what is held most precious, that those who 
stand outside shall be impressed and shall desire 
to become a part of that beautiful temple, accepta- 
ble unto God.” 


Whose Fault? 


123 


They very well knew the truth of their mother’s 
words, and their own duty as members of that holy 
body, but alas, it was so easy to be tempted, to be 
made indignant, to be impatient and ungenerous ! 
It was hard to feel the old, sweet, peaceful routine 
broken in upon, that hand-in-hand walk and wor- 
ship which they had known from their childhood. 
Yet were it not far better to draw in this one by 
love and gentleness, than to stand looking ever 
with grieved eyes at that old flowery path which 
stretched through sunshine from the baptismal 
font down to the present, with scarcely a shadow 
to touch its freshness and beauty ? 

Oh Rica, Rica, why did you ever bring the 
pretty bird in to flutter among the branches of the 
stately old household tree, to find her mate wait- 
ing in patient silence for her there ? 

Gertrude was not in at lunch time, nor did any 
one see her until dinner was announced and she 
and Elwood came in together. Every one glanced 
unconsciously at the husband to see “ if he knew,” 
but no, his calm face wore its own pleasant look, 
and he spoke cheerfully and unconstrainedly. 

Mrs. Everson asked Gertrude about Sylvie and 
the baby, and all things seemed to have fallen into 
the accustomed smooth routine, but there was a 
scarcely- perceptible difference in Gertrude, a tinge 


124 


Whose Fault f 


of hardness in her manner which certainly had 
hitherto been lacking. Rica was the first to notice 
it. “ It is the beginning,” she said to herself pro- 
phetically. It was true. The slighting of Sylvie’s 
invitation (for no word had been spoken about it 
in her presence, and only a formal “regret” sent) 
and the interrupted sisterly conclave, at which she 
understood perfectly that she was the culprit upon 
whom sentence was being passed, these two things 
had made the drop of bitterness in her cup, which 
would not henceforth recover its lost sweetness. 

“ It was a mistake,” she was saying to herself 
during all the dinner hour ; “ one ought never to 
come into a man’s home when he has sisters ; I 
could have loved his Church long ago, but they 
have made me heartily sick of it all.” 

While she was thinking these things, she spoke 
quietly, even cheerfully, accepted or refused what 
was offered her with her usual politeness, and only 
Rica and the mother noticed that undefinable 
change, that sort of stoical look which had come 
over her brightness, as though she were making 
herself ready to endure. Yes, one other saw it : 
her husband ; but he thought she must be tired ; 
she always wanted to do so much for every one 
that he feared she had undertaken more than her 
strength warranted in this Hallow Eve affair, but 


Whose Fault ? 


125 


he had no fear of anything deeper than this. He 
supposed of course that mother and “ the girls ” 
had talked it all over with Gertrude, given their 
reasons for declining Sylvie’s invitation, and set- 
tled the whole affair amicably. 

The busy days went by, and the Hallow Eve 
came, fair and beautiful. 

“ Promise me not to overtax yourself, my Ger- 
trude,” said her husband, as she followed him to 
the door for the morning good-bye. 

“ I promise you, dear ; you will see how bright I 
shall be to-night.” 

He looked with a yearning fondness into her 
shining eyes. Ah ! how he prayed that no cloud 
might ever come over that brightness. He did not 
like that look in her eyes, he thought it meant too 
much excitement and need of rest. 

“ She shall have a rest, at all events,” he de- 
cided ; “before the winter fairly sets in, with all 
its gayeties and its constant excitement, we will 
go away somewhere together — just Gertrude and 
I — to some quiet, restful spot, and have no one to 

interfere with us. Perhaps to H , among the 

hills, and by the mill river, with its quaint, old- 
fashioned houses and peaceful scenery.” 

While he thus fondly planned, his wife was de- 
bating with herself whether she should go away 


126 


Whose Fault f 


for all day too, or wait until after lunch. She 
knew that she ought to stay, but she wanted to 
go. While she hesitated, Rica came to speak to 
her. 

“Trudie dear, have we vexed you?” she asked 
softly, with tears in her eyes. 

“ I think it is I who have vexed you, Rica.” 

“ I am not vexed. It seems to me quite easy 
and right for us all to live together and generously 
allow one another to do and think as seems best 
to each.” 

“ You always were a dear, large-hearted girl,” 
said Gertrude, smiling a little sadly into her young 
sister’s eyes, “and I hope you will always love me, 
Rica ? ” 

“Always, always! Trudie, you and I will stay 
the same old friends, no matter what comes.” 
And after that Gertrude resolved to stay until 
after lunch. 

When she was alone again, Gertrude took up 
her little Prayer Book, and turned to the service 
for All Saints’ Day. She felt more gentle since 
Rica’s visit to her room, and as she read, the tears 
gathered in her eyes. 

“ No wonder they love the day,” she said softly, 
“ but why did they not tell me so, and why not 
speak of it as one Christian should to another, in- 


Whose Fault ? 


127 


stead of standing aloof and looking at me with 
horror just because I go to try and please my sis- 
ter and enjoy an evening with her and her friends ? 
It is quite natural that they should not care for 
such an eve of a solemn memory day ; but they 
shouldn’t expect all the world to think like them. 
If I could remember my father or my mother, it 
would be different, but Sylvie has been my 
mother,” she added, the force of indignant feeling 
coming back, “ and I shall certainly try to please 
her always. 


“ For she is a living saint. 

And all the rest are dead,” 

she said aloud, with a laugh lighting her clouded 
face. 

Had she been indeed a Churchwoman, filled 
with all the sweet and holy memories of its saints 
and martyrs from her childhood, as the beautiful 
years brought season of feast and fast close follow- 
ing each other, she never could have uttered such 
a couplet. 


XIV. 


"F^LWOOD EVERSON carried a heavy heart 
on that Eve of All Saints ; he would not have 
acknowledged it to any one, he scarcely allowed it 
to himself, but there certainly was a mote in his 
sunbeam that would not grow less, though he 
fought it bravely. 

A trouble unspoken rankles and is magnified ; 
brought out to the air and sunlight, looked at 
fairly from all points, it grows more bearable, de- 
creases possibly, at least shows clear and fair for 
what it is. This trouble was worse to Elwood, 
worse to all of them, because no one spoke openly 
of it. If indeed there had been plain, kindly and 
sympathetic speech together, the trouble would 
rapidly have melted away ; but now there it stood, 
quite real and terrible, staring them in the face ; a 
small thing upon which the silence acted like a 
fog, whose tendency is to enlarge to huge propor- 
tions all that comes within its reach. 

Elwood sighed and straightened himself in the 
128 


Whose Fault? 


129 


keen, clear air of the autumn night, as if to rid 
himself of any sense of burden, and hastened on to 
meet the woman he loved best of all the world. 

She was looking very fair and girlish when his 
eyes fell upon her among the bevy of bright 
women. She was helping in some game with the 
young folks, and he heard one of the girls say, 
“ Oh Mrs. Everson, how beautifully you manage 
it ! ” Then a sudden feeling thrilled her, and she 
looked up quickly, across the intervening group of 
faces, into her husband’s eyes. There was no mis- 
taking the gladness of her look ; and it touched 
the quiet, strong man deeply. 

In a minute she was at his side, and her soft 
voice was saying, “ How glad I am, Elwood; it 
has been a long evening, without you.” It was 
truer than he knew. It was the first evening they 
had spent apart from each other since their mar- 
riage, and it had revealed to Gertrude how strongly 
her life was bound up in his, how little good there 
was in anything unshared by him. 

She had thought to enter into all the joy of this 
evening in her old way; the mirth and music and 
brightness had seemed very attractive to her as 
she looked forward to them, but little by little, as 
the moments passed by, she began to realize that 
a want, a lack seemed to be in everything: a 


130 


Whose Fault? 


change had come into her whole life. She was no 
more a gay girl content and pleased with girlish 
joys, but a woman with a true man’s love in her 
keeping; one whose life had enlarged and deep- 
ened while yet it centred more upon one. 

‘‘Apart from my husband, there is no real joy 
for me,” she said to herself, at last fully compre- 
hending it all. 

And once, when her sister came upon her stand- 
ing alone by a quiet window, she said, “Why, 
Sylvie, I want my husband; it isn’t any pleasure, 
at all, without him. I — why — I did not know — ” 
she broke off, with a little quivering smile, and 
Sylvie put her arms about her saying softly, 
“ Of course ! Don’t I know, and am I not 
glad ? I could not wish you to be happy without 
him.” 

That sensible young woman straightway made 
up her mind that whatever Churchly interference 
might henceforth keep Gertrude from taking part 
in any plan of her own, she would not complain 
so long as the young wife were one with her hus- 
band in all things. 

The short remainder of the evening’s pleasure 
passed, and Gertrude and her huband took their 
way homeward together, each far more contented 
and happy than they had been for some days. 


Whose Fault ? 131 

Gertrude did not know what had passed between 
her husband and his sisters that evening during 
her absence. She did not imagine that the first 
approach to any bitterness had occurred in their 
conversation together that evening — these who 
had lived always in such unity and harmony. She 
did not dream what a dark cloud her glad words 
of love had lightened when she met him with her 
fond greeting an hour previous. She only knew 
that she was very happy by his side, and that there 
her true, best life must work itself out, a part of his 
life. She did not say much, for her husband was 
somewhat quiet, and she thought he was recalling 
the past and the dear ones who had gone; but she 
promised herself that “ to-morrow nothing shall 
come to mar his day. I will go with him, and the 
girls will see I can appreciate the beauty of their 
solemn services ! ” 

Alas, the morrow was destined to be a failure ! 
It was a rare day, with that soft haze over all 
the land which makes the tenderness of na- 
ture, answering to the tenderness of our hearts, 
at this time of sweet and holy memories. Ger- 
trude stood at her husband’s side, in the break- 
fast room listening to his explanation about the 
“ Summer of All Saints,” when the others came 
in. Their good-mornings to Gertrude were cold 


132 


Whose Fault? 


and constrained, when she meant to have given 
an especial warmth. 

They had not met since she had hurried away 
after luncheon on the previous day, and she had 
naturally expected somewhat more of a greeting 
than usual, but though Rica went to her with her 
customary kiss, even she said nothing and ap- 
peared to be under some sort of restraint. 

Mrs. Everson’s usual calm seemed slightly 
disturbed, though she made the only remark 
to Gertrude having reference to the Halloween 
party. 

“ Did you enjoy yourself last night, Gertrude ? ” 
she asked as she sent her a cup of coffee. 

“Thank you, mother, not nearly as much as I 
had imagined I should. I felt lost without my 
husband, and did not seem to get the real good 
of anything until he came.” 

She smiled brightly, and the look of answering 
love in Elwood’s face as he turned towards her 
only seemed to increase the bitterness in his 
sisters’ hearts. 

“ I hope you two will always find your best en- 
joyment together, it is the true way for husband 
and wife,” replied the elderly lady cheerfully, and 
with a glance at her “ children,” as if to say, “ Let 
that atone for all.” 


Whose Fault ? 


133 


“ I did not realize how much I needed my hus- 
band until I was trying to enjoy myself apart from 
him ! ” exclaimed the young wife smiling, yet with 
a great longing at her heart, to flee away with that 
husband anywhere where they might be alone to- 
gether, just they two ! 

“ A pity you hadn’t realized it in time to save 
him from attending a Presbyterian party on the 
Eve of All Saints’ Day,” said Jessie, with a little 
laugh that was almost a sneer. 

“ Why, Jessie ! ” exclaimed Rica, while the color 
flashed into Gertrude’s face, and all the half-for- 
gotten, wholly-repented bitterness came back to 
her heart. 

There was a moment’s silence. Elwood was not 
a hasty man. He sat looking into his sister Jes- 
sie’s face, with sad, wondering eyes, as if trying to 
realize how she could be so cruel. Then a low 
voice, sweet in its very repression and its effort 
after calmness, said, “Jessie, would it not have 
been better in every way, more sisterly, more 
kind, and wise, and helpful, if you had spoken to 
me of your wishes in this matter, had told me of 
the customs and the prejudices of your family, of 
your Church; and then had left me to choose my 
plan of action, having a clear light upon all 
sides ? ” 


134 


Whose Fault f 


She had gone on bravely, calm and gentle to the 
very last word, with her clear, honest eyes looking 
full into Jessie’s own. But when she had finished, 
a sudden trembling seized her, and with a feeling 
that she must get away she rose quickly and left 
the room. 

“ I hope you see now, mother, in whose heart 
dwells the most generosity! ” said Elwood in low, 
quiet tones, as he rose and followed his wife, not 
deigning to bestow a look or a word upon Jessie. 

“ Oh, my children! my children! ” exclaimed the 
mother sorrowfully, while poor Rica broke down 
and cried like a child. 

“ She’s right! Trudie’s right! We ought to 
have spoken about it! How could she know about 
our ways and the Church days and all that ? ” 

“ I should think Elwood ought to have told her 
something! ” 

“ And he supposed that we had told her. It was 
all a mistake.” 

“Well then let us make the best of it. Jessie 
has had her say and Gertrude has had hers, and 
now the best way is to get over it quietly and go 
on as usual,” said Mrs. Richards. 

“ I suppose we must expect to have little disa- 
greements now and then, mother; when a brother, 
and an only brother too, brings his wife in the 


Whose Fault? 


135 

family, one can’t hope to have things just as they 
were before, be she ever so good a woman! We 
are all faulty, and we must learn to bear with one 
another. Come now, don’t let us have our day 
spoiled! ” 

“ I don’t see any help for it,” said Grace, with a 
sad little smile. “ It is about as spoiled already as 
any day could well be, and such a day! ” 


XV. 


T T ALF an hour later a soft knock was heard at 

“** Gertrude’s door. Her husband opened it 
and found his mother. 

“How is Gertrude ?” and without waiting fora 
reply, “ I think she is tired and over-excited, she 
has been doing so much of late. If she will let me, 
I want to stay with her while you all go to service.” 

While she spoke, her son led her slowly into the 
room, where his wife came forward instantly. Her 
face had traces of tears still and was quite pale, but 
she smiled and answered gently, “ You are very 
kind, mother, and I thank you, but I want to go 
to service with you if I may. I was a little tired 
perhaps and foolish, but I shall be all right after a 
little walk in the morning air.” 

Elwood watched her proudly as she spoke in her 
own winning way. Who could help loving her ? 
he wondered. 

His stately mother bent over and kissed the pale 
face of her daughter-in-law, and a great feeling of 
136 


Whose Fault? 


137 


relief came to her at the thought that after all no 
one would be kept from service on that day of 
sacred recollections, and that possibly too this 
time of trouble and irritation might open to 
a broader, brighter relationship between them 
all. 

“ My dear, brave little daughter! come with us, 
do, and make our circle complete. No thank you, 
my son, I will not sit down, for I must hasten 
with my morning duties or I shall be late. If 
you and Gertrude are ready first, do not wait 
for us, but walk on by yourselves. It is a lovely 
morning and the air will do you good, dear, I 
hope.” 

The peace-loving mother passed out. She had 
purposely arranged that the husband and wife 
should walk on together ahead of the others, be- 
cause she knew they would be happier so and she 
knew too that her son’s sense of loyalty and defer- 
ence to her would induce him to wait, unless she 
herself established some such precedent. That son, 
though true as man could be to his wife and loving 
her as well as woman need wish to be loved, had 
never yet failed in attention and respect to this 
mother. 

The knowledge of this made Mrs. Everson per- 
fectly satisfied both for the present and the future, 


138 


Whose Faidt? 


and also made her eager for any special pleasure 
which could be enjoyed by the young wife and 
husband together. 

It is only the very truest men who can win such 
mother love and confidence. 

Gertrude and Elwood started early, walking lei- 
surely along together, enjoying the soft hazy 
beauty of the day. 

“ It is a sort of sad beauty which makes nature 
accord so well with our feelings at this time of 
sweet, sorrowful remembrance,” said Elwood. “ I 
am counting a great deal, my dear, upon your ap- 
preciation of our services to-day.” 

“ I feel quite sure that I shall enjoy them, El- 
wood, for what I read in my Prayer Book impressed 
me as being very beautiful. But oh!” she added 
with the least awakening of her old gay humor, “ I 
do hope we shall have the old rector and not that 
young assistant! ” 

He smiled, taking more note of the cheerfulness 
of her look and tone than of what she said. 

The Eversons had two pews, one which had 
always been owned by the family and a second one 
which Elwood had rented just before his marriage. 
This was situated just behind the family pew, and 
here he and Gertrude sat at an early hour that 
morning, enjoying the restful stillness of the great 


Whose Fault? 


139 


church, and feeling the influence of all the hallowed 
and beautiful surroundings. 

More than one prayer had gone up from Ger- 
trude’s heart as she sat there, for strength to for- 
give and for a generous Christian love towards her 
sisters-in-law. She thought she had conquered 
and could be at peace until they all came in, Jes- 
sie’s face wearing that placid, self-satisfied half- 
smile which is always so aggravating. 

Mrs. Everson took the foot of the pew and Jessie 
sat at the head. They were reverent people, but 
Gertrude noticed Jessie in particular, whose out- 
ward tokens of devotion annoyed her, as they need 
not have done except for that half-quenched angry 
indignation in her own heart. 

It is easy to taunt and say “ Oh yes, if these 
people who bow and kneel so much, who use so 
many forms of reverence, were only half as good 
in their lives as their manners would indicate,” 
but are we to be the judges of these things ? 
Did the Master set us to watch His children’s 
devotion, to see if it be real or feigned ? Have 
we not enough to do to watch and guard our 
own lives, keeping them from Pharisaism and 
formality ? 

Rica had longed to sit in her brother’s pew, on 
the other side of Gertrude, but she was afraid of 


140 


Whose Fault? 


any least movement which might stir up the spirit 
of envy or strife which seemed, alas, so easily 
roused. Gertrude noticed the sadness in her face, 
and knew that there was another troubled heart in 
God’s house, that morning. 

Then came the organ notes, dim and distant, 
heralding the sweet singers, and Gertrude, taking 
the Hymnal from her husband’s hands, saw that 
the processional was that glorious anthem which, 
if anything of human wording can, lifts the soul 
away from sordid thoughts and cares into the 
higher life of God’s true servants 

“For all the saints who from their labors rest, 

Who Thee, by faith, before the world confess’d. 

Thy name, O Jesus, be forever bless’d. 

Alleluia! ” 


A faint glimmering of the true idea of All Saints’ 
Day began to shine in her heart. She looked at 
the white-robed chorister boys, with their bright 
young faces. What did they know of life’s warfare, 
its struggles through “darkness drear”? What 
indeed had she herself, with her twenty years of 
home joy and peace and love — what had even she 
known of it all, until within the last few months, 
since she had entered upon womanhood’s strange 
sweet path ? 


Whose Fault ? 


141 

At the foot of the procession she saw with a 
feeling of delight the gray-haired rector, his calm 
face uplifted and touched with the “ peace which 
passeth all understanding.” How grand yet how 
humble he looked ! As he passed close by the 
front pews, she heard his voice joining in the 
words — 

“ Soon, soon, to faithful warriors, comes the rest ; 

Sweet is the calm of Paradise the bless’d,” 

and looking into his face she somehow seemed to 
know how his heart thrilled at the thought of that 
“ rest.” No doubts troubled him, no fears, only a 
few more days of the faithful struggle, and then 
the cross forever laid down at the Master’s feet 
and the entering into His rest ! 

Gertrude forgot Jessie, there at the head of the 
pew ; forgot the unkind words and her own anger 
as the service went on. The young assistant read 
the lessons, and read them well too, notwithstand- 
ing Gertrude’s prejudice against him. But when 
the Communion Service came, a stranger read the 
Epistle, his strong, clear voice reaching the far 
corners of the great church. How wonderful it 
was ! She shut her eyes to listen as the trumpet- 
like tones called out one after another of the 
“ twelve thousand ; ” and it seemed almost as if 


142 


Whose Fault ? 


she could see, as he read, that “ great multitude 
which no man could number ” standing “ before the 
Throne and before the Lamb.” 

Then, as if mortals might be too visionary and 
dwell too much upon glorious scenes which took 
them away from the present battle-ground of life, 
the rector followed with the Beatitudes of life’s 
Master, who knew our infirmities and encouraged 
us so to fight on unto the end — 

“ ‘ Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit 
the earth.’ ” 

She did not think of Jessie nor of Mrs. Richards, 
but of herself as of one most needy of this grace 
of meekness. 

There was yet the most trying ordeal of all to be 
met. When Doctor Dorman began to read the 
Exhortation in his slow, solemn way, the heart of 
the young wife failed her. It was something so 
much more real, more searching than anything to 
which she had ever been accustomed, that she dared 
not go forward while the remnant of that anger 
burned within her. She was not “in love and 
charity with all,” she knew that well enough ; she 
did not want to kneel at Jessie’s side and partake 
of those most holy mysteries. No, it was too soon; 
she was not prepared. 

As they knelt for silent prayer, she whispered 


Whose Fault? 


143 


to Elwood, “ I cannot go, dear ; go without 
me. 

His hand sought hers, holding it in his strong 
clasp as they knelt together. Was not that higher 
love far, far beyond anything which this earthly 
life had given her, and could she not follow where 
that called ? But — “so is the danger great, if ye 
receive the same unworthily,” she repeated, with 
that shrinking of an honest heart from anything 
which seemed not perfectly upright. 

Elwood looked at her as he rose to go forward. 
Her hand fell from his clasp and she shook her 
head, bending low over her Prayer Book to hide 
her quivering lips and tearful eyes as the whole 
Everson family except herself knelt to receive 
together the emblems of a Saviour’s dying love. 

She did not see one and another of the sisters 
turn to look wonderingly at her as they left their 
pew. She only knew that her husband had gone 
to that sacred feast without her. 


XVI. 


S might be expected, Gertrude’s action at 



** church did not tend to make matters more 
pleasant at home. Rica and her mother tried to 
keep things smooth and friendly, avoiding those 
topics upon which all did not think alike, but their 
efforts could not restore harmony to the atmos- 
phere where once unkind words, narrow and 
ungenerous thoughts, had breathed their chill 
breath. 

Elwood resolved that he would take his wife 
immediately away, for a little change. 

“ I will take you to a spot which I am sure you 
will admire, though it is away from cities and all 
modern civilization,” he said to her. 

That is just what I should most enjoy, I am al- 
together tired of civilization; but, Elwood, you 
must not go on my account, I would not have 
you leave your business and perhaps have it to 
regret afterwards.” 

“Well, you see, my dear, this is my business; it 


Whose Fault ? 


145 


is in my route exactly; and I shall combine busi- 
ness with pleasure this time. The mills are at 

H and I go up there occasionally to look 

after things; it is to my mind a most charming 
spot, and I have often longed for such a com- 
panion as you, dear, when I have been there.” 

So it came to pass that in the early days of 
November the husband and wife went away to 
H . 

“ I am afraid we have become dreadfully demor- 
alized, mother,” sighed Mrs. Richards, as the pair 
drove away and Gertrude’s face, pale yet striving 
after its old bright smile, looked back at them. 

“ What do you mean, Sarah ? ” demanded Jessie, 
not without a twinge of conscience. 

“ That we have soiled the fair white garment 
of our household unity by dissension and strife; 
that we have made our little sister-in-law unhap- 
py and ourselves no less so, to say nothing of our 
only brother, and that just when the new husband 
and wife ought to be settling down to a cozy and 
comfortable winter, joyous as two birds in a nest — 
we have sent them off seeking for rest and happi- 
ness elsewhere! ” 

She spoke half in jest, yet she was sufficiently 
in earnest to show a dimness in her eyes and to 
have a decided break in her voice. 


146 


Whose Fault f 


“ Nonsense! ” replied Jessie. “We are just the 
same as ever, or shall be now that we are by our- 
selves again; it is the coming of a stranger into 
the family that has wrought the change; we need 
not have expected anything else, I certainly did 
not! ” 

“ Possibly poor little Gertrude expected some- 
thing rather more kind and affectionate,” said 
Rica bitterly. 

Her mother put her arm about her youngest 
girl and said, “ Gently, my daughter, do not allow 
yourselves to speak so to one another, my children; 
talk freely, but do not say bitter and sarcastic 
things. To tell the truth, I fear that Sarah is only 
too right! God has put us to the test, my chil- 
dren, and we have failed. Let us think it over and 
try if we cannot do better in the future.” 

“ I do not believe we shall ever make Gertrude 
a Churchwoman, she is too deeply-dyed in Pres- 
byterianism.” 

“Jessie, I know better than that. Trude and I 
have always been intimate, always at least until 
this break, and I know very well that she had not 
a strong personal attachment to the Presbyterian 
creed; it was simply with her a matter of birth 
and education. I often spoke to her about the 
Church, and about certain things in the Prayer 


Whose Fault f 


147 


Book before her marriage, and found her inter- 
ested. There was not a grain of bigotry in her, 
and if she does not learn to care for the Church, 
it will be because — because we show her how un- 
kind and ungenerous its people can be.” 

Rica followed her mother’s advice and tried to 
speak calmly. She felt that she had known her 
sister-in-law longer and more intimately than the 
others and was privileged to speak plainly. 

“ It is hard to know just how to act in such 
cases,” said Mrs. Richards. “ We certainly can- 
not, must not, act slightingly towards the Church! 
I don’t see any medium way.” 

“A pity you couldn’t, Sarah — some half-way 
system between the Church and Presbyterianism,” 
sneered Jessie, then, “ Oh, forgive me, mother! I 
don’t mean to displease you, but it is hard; you 
know how Wood and I have always gone side by 
side to and from Church ever since Sarah was 
married, and now see how he is slipping away 
from me.” 

“ Oh, but you know very well, dear, you slipped 
away from him first and took up with a certain Mr. 
Allan Brewster,” cried Grace mischievously, glad 
to have an opportunity of making a slight diver- 
sion and bringing a smile to each of the perplexed 
faces. 


148 


Whose Fault f 


Mr. Allan Brewster was the gentleman to whom 
Jessie was engaged to be married. He was a zeal- 
ous Churchman and a pleasant man enough; but his 
business affairs were in that uncertain state which 
forbade his marrying very soon. The waiting and 
the uncertainty appeared to have somewhat worn 
upon Jessie, as was shown by the bitter speeches 
and sarcasm in which she indulged. It takes a 
rare woman to wait and lose no sweetness nor 
freshness thereby. Jessie was only an ordinary 
woman. 

Meantime Elwood and his wife are happy to- 
gether; having left all controversy and question- 
ing behind, each one is looking forward to a quiet 
enjoyment of the other’s society. 

“ What matters it where,” says Gertrude to her- 
self, “ in the mountains or in the valley, it is all 
one to me if only my husband is with me and will 
speak to me unbiased by the thought of what his 
sisters would say.” 

And yet, when they had left the noisy train and 
had clambered into the old-fashioned stage which 
started on a slow climb over rough ways, she 
could not wholly repress her words of delight at 
the beautiful scenery which came into view at 
every step: wild and rugged, with the still glory of 
the sunset over it all, it seemed to give her peace. 


Whose Fault? 


149 


Through the woods, crossing the winding, rush- 
ing, impatient little river half a dozen times, and 
hearing it here and there plash over the rocks, 
they at length came to the modest village, with 
its vine-covered houses and its grey stone 
church. 

Gertrude never forgot her first sight of the 
church tower, with its cross and the grave-yard 
below. The setting sun shone first upon the cross 
and then down to the white stones; all of these 
(the cross and the stones) stood facing the east, in 
the reverent old time style, and the fading light of 
the November day fell over all with a strange, 
peaceful glory. 

Both husband and wife had something of the 
same thought come to them as they gazed upon 
the peculiar beauty of the scene. “ It is the cross 
and the grave after all which go to make up the 
whole, and if we can only get that glory to light 
them both, we shall have peace at last and a sure 
hope of that which lies beyond.” 

Not far off they finally alighted, and entered the 
pleasant, rustic hotel. There were no other pas- 
sengers to stop there, though a few people of quiet 
or artistic tastes still lingered at the hotel, 
lengthening out their time of rest, of convales- 
cence or of delightful labor. 


i5o 


Whose Fault f 


Gertrude drew a long breath and looked into her 
husband’s face with a smile. 

“ It is so good, Elwood, so good! ” 

“ What, my darling ? ” he asked, more to hear 
her talk than because he did not understand. 

“ Oh, the peace and the beauty and the harmony. 
One couldn’t fret and be cross here! ” 

“ It would seem not, and one might perhaps 
gain strength here for the worries and vexations 
which come down in the busy world; don’t you 
think so, my little wife ? ” 

“Perhaps; I will try, at all events,” she added 
humbly. 

“ We will both try,” he said, putting his arm 
about her as they stood breathing in the fragrant 
evening air and listening to the distant plash of 
water. 

“To-morrow we will go to the mills. I think 
you will be pleased to see everything, although 
it is rather late in the season for the country to be 
looking its prettiest.” 

As Gertrude expressed an interest, he told her 
something about his business: how he had known 
the old mill always, and as a boy had visited here 
often ; how the business had come into his hands 
at his father’s death and how as it had grown 
largely he had deemed it well to build a new mill 


Whose Fault? 


1 5 1 


near the old one, how he generally came to the 
place himself at least twice a year, and found it the 
pleasantest part of the year’s work, “ a sort of 
holiday, in fact.” He told her, also, something of 
how the little village had grown, how the people 
were chiefly English or a better class of Irish, and 
that they had wanted a church, “ an Episcopal 
Church you know, dear,” he explained, that she 
might perfectly comprehend, and that he had seen 
the Bishop, and had a young missionary sent 
there, and what good work he had done. 

But he did not tell her all — all that she was to 
learn, some day, for herself — how he himself had 
done the most for the place, had really made the 
plans for the little stone church building; and had 
by his own gifts and among his personal friends 
raised sufficient money to free it from any debt. 
The burial-ground was an ancient one, to which 
the old inhabitants were greatly attached; and 
they had wanted the church placed near it. 

“ Oh, we must see the church, too ! Can we not, 
Elwood ? Shall we stay over Sunday ? ” she asked 
eagerly. 

And his heart was very glad as he answered, 
“ We certainly will if you like.” 

It was almost like a second wedding trip, only 
that the June roses had changed to November’s 


1 52 


Whose Fault? 


frost-tinted leaves, and the night air was so cool 
that they could not sit in it, but must walk to and 
fro, and she must have a warm wrap, and Elwood 
must ask ever and anon, “Are you sure you are 
warm enough, dear ? ” 

All that only made it more pleasant. 

“ We will have some long drives, and you shall 
have a good view of all the beauties.” 

“ Can you get a horse here ? ” 

“Yes, I have one here for the superintendent’s 
use; and they take excellent care of it for me,. 
They have always called it my horse, but now it 
shall be called yours,” and he revolved in his mind 
how proud he would be to let the simple-hearted 
village people see his pretty young wife and how 
her sweet words and bright smile would win their 
love immediately. 


XVII. 


TT was all just as he had pleased himself in 
thinking. There was no disappointment here 
at least. November was kind to them; she kept 
her sweet mantle of haze over all; she brought no 
rude storms to interfere with their walks and rides, 
or to mar the beauty of the dying year. 

“ The mills ” were only a pleasant walk from 
the hotel, but, as they were to go much further, 
they drove, and Gertrude was well pleased to see 
with what care the handsome horse and the car- 
riage had been kept, and the pride with which 
they were brought to the “ young master; ” El- 
wood’s father having been in the same business, he 
would always be “ the young master ” to all the 
mill hands. 

What a picture indeed was that old mill to Ger- 
trude’s eyes, used to city sights and to “ fashion- 
able ” summer resorts! Elwood himself had ro- 
mance enough and sufficient attachment to the 
spot where he had played as a boy, when visiting 

153 


Whose Fault ? 


1 54 

there with his father, to keep all about the old 
mill as unchanged as possible. 

“ Let the new one do the hard work with the 
modern appliances,” he said, “ but let this old one 
stand as an honored friend, respected for the good 
it has done and the beauty which it keeps so fresh 
all about it.” 

“ Why, Elwood, I had no idea you were so full 
of sentiment! ” cried his wife, looking well pleased 
at the discovery. 

“ Oh, you haven’t begun to know me yet, my 
dear,” he answered lightly; then, with a more 
serious aspect and a lower voice, “You have not 
yet even found out how well I love you! ” 

“ Is it so, dear ? ” 

She looked up, her lips trembling with emotion. 

“I ought to be a very happy woman! I am !’ 1 
she added, with her bright smile, and certainly at 
that precise time she was. 

While Elwood talked with the superintendent, 
Gertrude was noticing the children who were play- 
ing about on the grassy slopes or sailing tiny 
home-made boats on what they called “ the pond.” 

There was a certain gentle timidity about the 
ways of these little ones which pleased Mrs. Ever- 
son and made her think longingly of her own 
small “Prince.” She made acquaintance with 


Whose Fault? 


1 55 


them, and asked them many questions about their 
lives and occupations, “ Did they go to Sunday 
School?” Oh yes! every one of them; and 
Archie could say his Catechism all through; and 
Milly had a beautiful Prayer Book for saying the 
Collect perfectly every Sunday in the year. 

“ And who gave Milly the beautiful Prayer 
Book? ” asked Mrs. Everson. 

“ Oh, Doctor Price, ma’am! He’s our minister,” 
and a pretty look of pride came upon all the young 
faces at the mention of “ our minister,” each one ap- 
peared as if he or she had some special story about 
Doctor Price which would be told without very 
much persuasion. 

So Mrs. Everson became much interested in 
“ our minister,” and was more than ever anxious to 
remain over a Sunday there, and to see the inside 
of the pretty little stone church. 

One of the hands is quite ill, they tell me, dear, 
and I want to go and see him. Would you like to 
drive there with me ? ” 

“Why certainly, Elwood, I am pleased to know 
and to have a share in all that interests you, and if 
you don’t let me, I shall set up a rival interest 
among these little new friends of mine,” she said 
merrily, nodding to the children, who were quite 
captivated by her sweet smile and her pretty face. 


1 56 


Whose Fault? 


He smiled, and called good-bye to the children, 
speaking to several by name. 

“ Those are real children, Gertrude, boys and 
girls whom nature and nature’s God have kept 
pure and simple and true; there is a deal of 
pleasure in talking with them.” 

“Yes, I discovered that; I have had quite a 
charming little conversation with them.” 

It was in one of the small white cottages which 
formed what was termed the “ mill village ” that the 
sick man was found. He had been slightly injured, 
and, through carelessness, a fever had set in. 

Mrs. Everson questioned her husband regarding 
him, and finding that he was a man with wife and 
children, said that she too would like to go in, 
since there might be something which she could 
do. 

“ I will see, my dear. I don’t want to be im- 
prudent; these fevers — ” 

“Oh, Elwood, I haven’t the slightest fear; and 
if I can do anything, let me come! ” 

“ There is Doctor Gregory now, I will ask him.” 

Having introduced his wife to the physician, he 
made due inquiries. 

“ Oh, the man is not in a dangerous condition, 
but it will be a tedious affair, and he is so terribly 
impatient and restless. I tell him he keeps the 


Whose Fault f 1 57 

fever hanging on, besides making his poor wife’s 
task doubly hard ! ” 

“ Oh, let me go in then and help her a little; it 
will cheer her up at any rate,” pleaded Gertrude, 
and the keen-eyed physician looked at her admir- 
ingly. 

“No danger, not a bit; your cottages are so 
admirably planned for ventilation and drainage and 
all that sort of thing, Everson, and that woman in 
there is one of a hundred.” 

“ I shall go in immediately then and see her,” 
announced Gertrude, preparing to descend from 
the carriage. 

Both gentlemen laughed. 

“ ‘ An’ if she will, she will, you may depend on’t!’” 
quoted the doctor, as he raised his hat and 
passed on to his own conveyance. 

“ Well, Mrs. Jones, the doctor says your hus- 
band is getting on nicely. This is my wife, who 
wants to talk a little with you and the children 
while I see Jones.” 

“ The lady is very kind,” said the tired-looking 
woman, giving Mrs. Everson a chair and then 
showing the gentleman to her husband’s sick room. 

Mrs. Everson talked to the poor wife in her 
cheery sensible way, asking questions to show her 
interest, and offering advice in such a manner that 


1 58 


Whose Fault? 


it would have been impossible for any one to take 
offense, and while she talked she had taken a little 
one from the floor to her lap and was pleasing it in 
various small ways ✓ which she understood well, 
having been thoroughly initiated by her young 
nephew, Baby Prince. 

The woman appeared very grateful and was 
growing actually rested under the blessed influence 
of true sympathy, when suddenly a step was heard 
on the walk outside and a soft knock at the door. 

“ It is our minister, ma’am,” said Mrs. Jones as 
she listened, and there was in her face and voice 
something of the same simple pride which Gertrude 
had noticed in the children at the mill pond. 

An elderly, pleasant looking gentleman entered 
as Mrs. Jones opened the door. 

“ Doctor Price, this lady is our young master 
Everson’s wife; the young master has come to see 
my husband.” 

“ Ah, yes; Mrs. Everson, I am very glad to meet 
you, your husband is an old friend of mine, or per- 
haps to put it more properly, I am an old friend of 
his, having known his father before him.” 

He took her hand with frank courtesy and seat- 
ing himself by her spoke pleasantly of Elwood and 
of the good he had done among the mill people. 
That she fully agreed with her“ minister ” in this 


Whose Fault? 


i5g 


matter, Mrs. Jones testified by her eager nods, her 
flushing and paling cheeks, and her tearful eyes. 
At last she could contain herself no longer, and 
when an appropriate pause came she exclaimed, 
“ Indeed, indeed, it’s as true as can be, ma’am ! 
The young master has saved my husband from 
many a foolish deed when he wouldn’t have lis- 
tened to any one else — he’s so fiery, Jones is ! Ex- 
cuse me, sir, for speaking, but I wanted the young 
lady to know.” 

“ Certainly, Mrs. Jones, that is right. Her hus- 
band,” he added, seeing that it would relieve the 
poor woman’s mind for him to tell it, “ her hus- 
band, Mrs. Everson, called himself a ‘ communist,’ 
and he was full of all sorts of wild vague notions 
about ‘ master and workman,’ rich and poor, etc., 
when he came here, and' as Mrs. Jones truly says, 
no one had much influence over him for good, ex- 
cept Mr. Everson; he, by his mild yet firm ways, 
his calm assurance of being in the right, his good 
precept followed by good example, has at least 
made a fast friend of Jones, and has done a great 
deal towards setting his mind right in regard to 
God’s great brotherhood on the earth.” 

All of which the good woman endorsed eagerly, 
and when the clergyman went in to see the sick 
man, Mrs. Jones retold in her own fervent style 


i6o 


Whose Fault ? 


all that Mrs. Everson had already heard regarding 
her husband’s peculiar ways of thinking. 

“ Oh, but he was bitter, ma’am, Jones was, very 
bitter; he couldn’t speak a decent word about any 
rich gentleman; he said they were all robbers who 
cared for nobody but themselves. I was almost 
afraid for the young master, when he came first, 
after Jones had hired to Superintendent Hopson; 
he had been talking to the men about their rights, 
and trying to get them to strike for more wages, 
and he made some of ’em nearly as crazy as him- 
self. The wives came to me and cried, and said as 
Jones had come here to spoil all their peace, they 
said how good and kind the young master was, and 
how it was a shame to set the men all by the ears 
so. Well I couldn’t help it, but I spoke to Jones, 
and that only made him more fierce. 

“Then, ma’am, that very night the young mas- 
ter came up, and he so innocent and kind, coming 
in like a friend to see if there was anything he 
could do for us. I’ll never forget the night, ma’am, 
— never ! Jones a-sitting there, looking so hard 
and angry, with a loaded pistol in his pocket and 
the young master lifting the little one to his knee 
and saying what a fine lad he would be ! That 
was only the beginning of all the pleasant things 
the good gentleman said while he sat here in our 


Whose Fault? 


161 


poor little room, and every minute I could see 
Jones feeling better and better. Who could help 
it, ma’am, with Mr. Everson asking him i what did 
he think of this or that, at the mill,’ and getting 
him to ‘ look after ’ something ‘ as a favor’ to the 
master ! Oh, ma’am, I could a cried for joy.” 

It may be imagined with what interest the 
young wife listened to these honest praises of her 
husband, her cheeks glowed, her eyes glistened 
and her heart swelled with tender pride. Then 
suddenly from the inner room came the sound 
of a clear, deep voice. Mrs. Jones ceased speak- 
ing and bowed her head reverently. Elwood 
had set the door slightly ajar and across the 
silence came the words of a prayer, a prayer 
which Gertrude had never heard before, but 
which struck her as being most beautiful and 
solemn. 

“ O Blessed Lord, the Father of mercies and the 
God of all comfort, we beseech thee look down in 
pity and compassion upon this thy afflicted ser- 
vant. Thou writest bitter things against him, 
and makest him to possess his former iniquities; 
thy wrath lieth hard upon him, and his soul is 
full of trouble. But, O merciful God, who hast 
written thy holy Word for our learning, that we, 
through patience and comfort of thy holy Script- 


162 


Whose Fault? 


ures, might have hope; give him a right under- 
standing of himself, and of thy threats and prom- 
ises; that he may neither cast away his confidence 
in thee, nor place it anywhere but in thee. Give 
him strength against all his temptations, and heal 
all his distempers. Break not the bruised reed, 
nor quench the smoking flax. Shut not up thy 
tender mercies in displeasure; but make him to 
hear of joy and gladness, that the bones which 
thou hast broken may rejoice. Deliver him from 
fear of the enemy, and lift up the light of thy coun- 
tenance upon him, and give him peace, through 
the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Amen.” 

If he could say that prayer, then surely all his 
old bitter feelings must have been conquered; and 
yes, she heard distinctly the man’s “Amen” fol- 
lowing her husband’s, in a voice weakened by 
illness, yet having a determined ring which argued 
well for his willingness to be rid of all old wicked 
devices and persuasions. Then followed the usual 
Prayer for a Sick Person, after which Mr. Everson 
came out, and having spoken a few more words of 
kindness to Mrs. Jones, he and his wife drove 
away. 


XVIII. 


“ 'C'LWOOD, is he a dangerous man ?” 

“ No, I think not now; but he is a trouble- 
some one, and perhaps will always be so. He 
sometimes helps me to realize what some of us 
must be to the Great Father, who in all patience 
and wisdom orders our lives; how we strain at His 
easy yoke, how we fret and grow impatient at His 
loving decrees, and imagine that the world is all 
gone wrong, because forsooth it does not move 
according to our selfish notions. Aleck Jones is 
sore at heart and he makes life a weariness to his 
wife and children, who ought to be happy and 
comfortable, all because I am the mill owner and 
he one of my workmen.” 

“But Elwood, that prayer; surely he must be- 
gin to feel differently now if he could at all re- 
spond to that.” 

“ Yes, he has lost a good deal of his bitter feel- 
ing; he frets and imagines he is a martyr yet, but 
I do not anticipate any action of his among the 

163 


164 


Whose Fault ? 


men, he is not ugly, only not thoroughly convinced 
nor contented. Doctor Price has a wonderful tact 
with him, in fact with all the mill hands.” 

“Is not Doctor Price a charming old gentle- 
man ? I am so glad that you opened the door to 
let us hear his prayer.” 

“ I felt that you would appreciate it; I do so 
want you to find out all the completeness and the 
beauty of our liturgy.” 

She smiled, with a little pain at her heart recall- 
ing the past troubles at home; then she said, with 
a sudden thought of his patience and gentleness, 
“ I am learning to love and appreciate it all, El- 
wood, more than you know, and I appreciate too 
your forbearance and kindness about it all when I 
know I must often disappoint you.” 

Yes, it was dawning upon her mind, how dear to 
her husband this Church with its ancient liturgy 
must be. If at that time she and Elwood could 
have stayed by themselves, just the two, with no 
outside influence, nor friction of other minds, cer- 
tainly the Church would have been the consecrat- 
ing power of all their lives, accepted by her as by 
him, to order and bless their home; but God does 
not so allow us to live by ourselves and in the sun- 
shine of our own choosing; it is through the press- 
ure and the jarring and the sharpness of many lives, 


Whose Fault? 


i65 


each acting upon the other, that He would bring 
us to victory and peace; it is upon life’s battle- 
field that the character grows symmetrical and 
calm and purposeful, not in the quiet of the clois- 
ter. These two lovers might not sit hand in hand 
on life’s sunny slopes, hearing the sweet harmo- 
nies of summer-time and catching the glare of 
happy sunsets. Nay, the Master had work for 
them to do, and their daily joy must be won 
through strongly-fought battles, their sweet life- 
melody must be struck out from the meeting of 
mind with mind, in the clear air of generous allow- 
ance and Christian sympathy. 

They were to remain at H over Sunday, and 

on Saturday Elwood was busy with details of busi- 
ness all the morning. Gertrude told him that she 
would go and see the sick Mr. Jones and his wife, 
she had a desire to see more of these people; and 
carrying some delicacy for the feverish invalid, 
she set out briskly, enjoying every breath of the 
keen air, and thinking what a place it must be in 
mid-summer. 

“ How Sylvie would revel in it, and her baby 
Prince — oh, they must certainly come to see it! ” 

The children saw her as she drew near, and 
greeted her with such happy little voices that Mrs. 
Jones was attracted to the window. Her face 


Whose Fault? 


1 66 

brightened at sight of the “ young master’s lady,” 
and she hastened to bid her enter. 

“ How is your husband to-day, Mrs. Jones ? ” 

“ Oh, ma’am, he is much better ; not half 
as uneasy and fretty since your kind gentleman 
talked with him the other night. The doctor 
says if he’ll only cease fretting, he’ll get on 
well!” 

Gertrude went in, her bright freshness seeming 
to bring sunshine to all the room. 

“ Will you give this to your husband from me 
and say that Mr. Everson’s friends are my friends 
also, and that I want to do all I can for them ? 
Let me take baby for you a little while.” 

It was a neat, pretty little creature, and ap- 
peared well satisfied to be petted by the strange 
lady. Gertrude loved children, she always said 
she felt the best part of her nature stirred and 
warmed into life when she held one of God’s little 
innocent beings in her arms; she was quite at 
home when talking “baby-talk,” and seemed 
never to exhaust her vocabulary. 

In the midst of this Mrs. Jones came back to her, 
with a request from the sick man; he wanted to 
see “ the young master’s lady.” 

“ If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am,” the wife said 
apologetically. “ He seems to have set his heart 


Whose Fault f 167 

on it, and he’s hard to deny, Jones is, when he does 
set his heart on a thing.” 

“Why, Mrs. Jones, I shall be very glad to go 
and speak a little with him, if the doctor would 
not object, and I scarcely think he would. You 
must remember, she added, laying her hand with 
a touch of womanly sympathy upon Mrs. Jones’ 
arm as she noticed her troubled look, “you must 
remember that I came here with Mr. Everson on 
purpose to become acquainted with his people, and 
to be friendly and helpful to them in any way I 
could.” 

With her bright smile she encouraged the anx- 
ious wife and they entered the sick room together. 

“Aleck, this is Mrs. Everson; she is very will- 
ing to come in to see you, but you mustn’t keep 
the lady too long, and you know you ought not to 
talk much.” 

He seemed to pay no heed whatever to his 
wife’s words, he turned his head to regard Mrs. 
Everson, and with his bright feverish eyes scanned 
her from head to foot; then a half-pleased smile 
flitted over his face. 

“ She doesn’t come here in her silks and jewels,” 
he said as if speaking to himself. 

His poor wife looked terribly frightened, but 
Gertrude only smiled at her and said, “ No indeed; 


Whose Fault? 


1 68 

why should I do such a foolish thing as that, Mr. 

Jones ? I came to H to learn to know and love 

my husband’s people, and I want to be free and 
happy among them; why then should I not wear 
what is comfortable and let the troublesome city 
dress rest awhile ? ” 

He watched her curiously as she spoke, humor- 
ing his fretful notion, and something, either the 
gentleness of her voice and smile or the tenor of 
her words, pleased him. The flushed, irritated look 
gradually softened from his countenance, and he 
appeared to be studying over some new thought. 

“ If you will promise to talk quietly or to let me 
read to you, we shall get on nicely together for a 
little while, and shall not hinder your wife from her 
work.” 

The poor woman, who knew her husband’s 
failing and how scarcely any one but Mr. Everson 
could restrain him from his indignant outbursts, 
was glad enough to go and continue her household 
tasks, and Gertrude set herself cheerfully to the 
duty in hand. The softly-falling folds of her 
simple dress made no rustling as she moved about 
the sick room, and nothing either in her words or 
manner set her above the human brother who lay 
suffering and restless there upon the bed. He was 
half- disconcerted at recognizing this. 


Whose Fault f 


169 


“ I thought you would be one of those ladies 
who are too proud to notice a poor workingman, 
one who would cheat a fellow of his proper wages 
to buy jewels and trumpery.” He looked half- 
ashamed, yet he had a sort of secret satisfaction, 
at having said it. 

“ I am sorry that you have such thoughts of any 
ladies ; I think you will understand us better, some 
day. Just now I fear it will excite you if we speak 
of these things, and we are all anxious for you to 
get well and strong again ; I will only tell you 
now for myself, that if there is anything which I 
can do to prove to you that I am the friend of 
working-men and working-women, I hope you will 
ask me to do it.” 

While she talked, she had drawn some soft work 
from her small satchel and was swiftly drawing 
the light needle through the fleecy white thread. 
He watched her pretty, delicate hands, and won- 
dered “ what nonsense she was at now.” 

“ Maybe I will ask you, ma’am, when the 
bitter mid-winter is here and it is hard to keep 
warm and — and — when you ladies are sitting 
in your handsome warm parlors making such 
pretty, silly fancy things as that and calling it 
work ! ” 

A strange little smile flitted over her face, and 


170 


Whose Fault f 


she straightened out her work, almost completed, 
for she had employed many odd minutes on it be- 
fore, and held it up so that he could see. 

“You may tell me if you think it foolish, Mr. 
Jones, but your baby is such a pretty little crea- 
ture that I wanted to see how he would look in 
this. I am going to put some blue ribbons in it, 
just the color of his eyes, and he shall wear it in 
here to visit you when you feel strong enough to 
have him.” 

She had a girlish pleasure in saying it all and in 
watching his surprise. A flush and a half-ashamed 
smile lighted his worn face. 

“ Now,” she went on in her low, soft voice, “you 
will be talking too much if I stay, and I will only 
say one thing more; if, when the cold mid-winter 
comes, as you say, there is anything which you 
need or which any of the mill people need, I want 
you to let Mr. Everson know ; you can tell better 
than I or than he can. Remember that we are 
your friends ; God has set us here to be mutual 
helpers to one another ; you all help us by your 
faithful and successful labor, and we must help you 
by sympathy and care and watchful interest over 
your homes and needs. Good-bye, my friend ; try 
to sleep and rest now.” 

He held her hand, detaining her, while bashful 


Whose Fault? 


1 7 1 

tears dimmed his eyes and his utterance was 
choked by a strange emotion. 

“ Mrs. Everson — forgive me, ma’am ! I promised 
to do better, to put away such bad feelings, but 
the evil spirit gets hold of me sometimes ! If God 
lets me live, I’ll try to be a better man. Would 
you mind saying for me again the prayer that 
the minister said the other day ? It helps me 
somehow.” 

He took a Prayer Book from the little table on 
the other side of his bed, and handing it to the 
lady, turned his head on the pillow and closed his 
eyes. 

She was half-frightened, this was something so 
entirely new to her ; yet had she not herself 
said that she had come there to be her husband’s 
helper among his people ? Could she fail or falter, 
now — dare she, when God so evidently placed the 
work before her ? She turned the pages, they 
seemed to open readily to the place where the 
prayer was written. 

With scarcely a hesitation, she knelt with her 
sweet young face lifted and prayed for this repent- 
ant man that solemn prayer ; then an impulse 
came to her to add the Lord’s Prayer. 

“ Let us say ‘ Our Father ’ now, for we both 
need our Father’s help.” 


172 


Whose Fault f 


She thought, and rightly, that it would help him 
to know how she regarded him as a brother. Mrs. 
Jones, standing at the open door, repeated the 
prayer with them, while glad tears streamed down 
her cheeks. 

When Gertrude Everson went away, she had 
won a great victory, though she did not know it. 
She had conquered the last bitter remnant of dis- 
satisfied feeling in Aleck Jones’ heart. He would 
henceforth be her husband’s true and loyal friend, 
guided in all his actions, not by the mad impulse 
of a selfish fault-finder against God’s ordinances, 
but by manly, honest wisdom and calm self-re' 
spect. 


XIX. 


ERTRUDE scarcely realized, before the day 
came, how much that Sunday in the quiet, 
far-away spot would be to her — just she and El- 
wood, with no one to cast the shadow of a 
thought between them ; just they two, heart 
to heart, in the sweet calm of nature, walking 
through the beauty and the quiet to the little 
stone church. 

In the dark of the previous evening, with her 
face hidden upon his breast, she had told her hus- 
band of her prayer at the sick man’s bedside. 
Elwood had been at Aleck Jones’ later on the Sat- 
urday evening, to see that every want was supplied; 
and he had heard there wonderful accounts of his 
wife’s goodness and kindness; but it was her story, 
so sweet in its modesty, so tender and earnest, 
that was music to his ears; it was that he waited 
for, and which he drank in with thirsty love ; and, 
as they walked together to service the next morn- 
ing, he recalled it all, looking into her dear bright 

i73 


i74 


Whose Fault? 


face. Such a girl, and yet so true and brave a 
woman ! ” he thought. ^ 

For Gertrude everything was touched with the 
fair color of her content. The Church service had 
surely never sounded so grand and symmetrical to 
her before : its order never seemed so perfect, its 
anthems and psalter never so beautiful, its collects 
never so all-comprehensive and solemn. The long 
Trinity season was drawing to a close, and its 
grand, echoing anthem of “ Holy, Holy, Holy ! ” 
seemed to gather glory and strength as it neared 
its Amen. The Church seemed to stand strong 
and glorious in the full majesty of her accom- 
plished year, reaching out protecting arms to 
whosoever would enter in and partake of her 
wondrous bounty. Gertrude felt a slight disap- 
pointment at Doctor Price’s sermon, which re- 
counted the blessings of fast and feast at that sun- 
set hour when all the blended beauties of light and 
shade were gathered in full sight of the army mili- 
tant. The wondrous round was almost complete. 
Here now in the calm retrospect of battles lost or 
won, in the fading radiance of festival joy and the 
passing shadow of penitential fast, might they not 
gather strength and wisdom for a new year ? 

It was a sermon to touch deeply the heart of 
every true Churchman ; but to this woman who 


Whose Fault? 


175 


was only just beginning to feel her way along the 
wonderful road — half dazzled by its long vistas of 
strange, sweet memory-lights, and awed by its 
aisles of consecrated shade — to her it was not 
wholly satisfying ; her heart was full of a sweet 
earthly love, and she would fain have traced it 
back to the Great Giver in a sermon which told 
wholly of heavenly love, and of that incarnate God 
who had so vested His divine nature with our poor 
humanity, that we may now say of every sentiment 
and emotion which thrills us “ Jesus knows ! ” 

That morning her heart was too weighted 
with its own joy to be lifted to any generous 
height, too heavy indeed with its own measure of 
sweet happiness to rise into that higher atmos- 
phere where stands Christ’s Church, His house- 
hold warm and bright with that larger love which 
looks away from self toward “ these also ” who 
must be brought into that blessed family. She 
felt the sermon cold and formal. “ Why did they 
not preach more of God’s love, and less of the 
Church?” Occasionally a sentence like the fol- 
lowing would almost annoy her: “ To be a devout 
and consistent Churchman brings a man through 
aisles fragrant with holy associations, and com- 
panied by a long procession of the good.” Where 
then were her dear ones — they who had passed 


176 


Whose Fault? 


from this earth ? Were they shut out from that 
“long procession of the good”? Yet were they not 
good ? — her mother, that dear mother, of whom 
Sylvie had so often told her ; her father, whose 
memory was kept fresh and beautiful to them by 
the words of those who had known and loved him, 
who had shared his bounty and been helped by his 
counsel. She had a feeling of being outside of all 
that which the preacher described as so altogether 
good and desirable. It troubled her. There was 
no sweet sentiment here of which she could speak 
to her husband, and say “ Was not that true ? ” 

She wondered if he were enjoying it all, — if 
his heart were responding to it eagerly, — while 
she sat apart, unsympathetic and uncompre- 
hending. 

She wished there had been no sermon — she had 
enjoyed the service so well ! It had taken on the 
bright tint of her happiness ; and, through prayer 
and anthem, her heart had gone up to the Good 
Giver of life’s joy ; but here was something be- 
yond that — broader, deeper, that required more 
of her. 

She sighed and was glad when Doctor Price fin- 
ished ; she glanced stealthily up into her hus- 
band’s face ; it was warm with tender emotion, 
his eyes seemed gazing far back, reflecting the 


Whose Fault f 


1 77 


light from a strange sweet past ; she opened her 
Hymnal to hide the tears of disappointment which 
would come. 

The recessional hymn was “ The Church’s one 
foundation.” She read the words over mechan- 
ically. 

“The Church, the Church!” somewhat impa- 
tiently her thoughts tried to compass the full 
meaning of the lines as they followed each other, 
but she seemed only to grow more and more be- 
wildered. 

As they passed out, Mr. Everson found many . 
people waiting to shake hands with him. Poor 
Gertrude, puzzled and wearied with her mind’s 
efforts, was glad to get out into the clear sun- 
light. 

She was like a gentle bird to whom a glorious 
forest is suddenly opened, its myriad avenues of 
greenery, its winding tracery of light and shadow, 
its wealth of arching boughs all seem so great, so 
large, she wants only her own dear tree, her one 
sweet nest and her mate. 

So it was with Gertrude, who could not yet 
look out from her own absorbing love, her 
one little nest of joy and rest, to catch any 
realizing view of Christ’s broad household, that 
ancient and glorious body which He had con- 


178 


Whose Fault ? 


secrated with His own life blood; she could 
not see them “ from every nation ” gathering, a 
grand army pressing on under one banner, toward 
one. hope, a loving family whose kinship with 
saints and martyrs of long ago keeps them “one 
o’er all the earth,” strong in faith, and true to their 
Living Head; she could only as yet see her one 
sweet gift, for which her heart was very grateful — 
her love, for whose dear sake she was willing to 
worship as he pleased. 

She talked with one and another of Elwood’s 
people, in her kind bright way expressing interest 
in their homes and families, and telling them how 
she was enjoying her visit among them, then 
smiling into her husband’s face, she walked on by 
his side, forgetting everything except her joy in 
his love, her trust in him whose strong, rich life 
had enfolded hers. 

Elwood did not remark anything about the ser- 
mon. She in her simple honesty praised the 
music, the service, the pretty church building, and 
her husband was fain to be content. 

“ Patience,” he said to himself, as he mused upon 
it, “patience, it will come; I feel sure it will come 
in good time.” 

Yes,* “all things come round to him who will 
but wait,” though they may perchance come oft- 


Whose Fault? 


179 


times through suffering and by thorny ways; it 
matters not, since it is our Father’s loving hand 
which marks out all for us. 

“ Elwood,” she said, “ I am very glad that we 
came here! I like the place; it has been so peace- 
ful and pleasant. It will always make me glad to 
know that you have such a charming bit of country 
life and scenery connected with your city business, 
a spot where you can turn occasionally for a larger 
breath.” 

He was glad that she liked it so well; he would 
spare as . many days yet as he possibly could, 
that they might enjoy it together, and then he 
wondered if he might not have a little home there 
to which he and Gertrude could come each sum- 
mer. He had never imagined that she would care 
for anything so quiet and simple, this bright young 
creature who had been so full of life and song and 
gayety; he had been prepared to abandon his own 
quiet, sober routine somewhat in response to her 
desires, to give up certain calm, bachelor ways, 
and to enter with his wife into the sunshine and 
the whirl of society life. He was greatly pleased 
that she should so appreciate the rugged beauty 
of this country about his mills, and during the 
days that remained to them there, he devoted 
himself wholly to her, making each day golden to 


i8o 


Whose Fault ? 


her with the wealth of his affection and the bright- 
ness of his presence. 

Oh, the fragrance and the beauty of that little 
time. How she recalled it afterward with a sick- 
ening sense of pain! 

What is such love given us for? Is it not that 
we may cement with it the whole fabric of our 
daily existence, filling each crevice and corner so 
that no outside wind may chill us, no rude breath 
reach us — that we may be secure, unharmed, with 
such strong support through and about our whole 
life? 

Ah, if Gertrude had but made such sweet use of 
God’s great gift, if she had but been wiser! Who 
of us, however, can cast a stone of reproach at 
her? Who of us has so clearly seen God’s inten- 
tion for us through His precious gifts that our life 
has not failed somewhat of its grace and worth? 
For all of us, alas, “ knowledge through suffering 
entereth.” 

Gertrude at least had the radiance of those days 
set star-like in her memory, to which she could 
look for comfort if any cloud came darkening her 
sky in future days. 

For Elwood Everson, he gave himself up to the 
intoxicating sweetness with a sort of trembling 
foreboding that it would not last, that he would 


Whose Fault? 


1 8 1 


yet find a bitterness mingling with his full cup of 
bliss. And if so? Well, he would simply do his 
best, rounding his life to compass each duty as 
much as in him lay, leaving the rest to the Mas- 
ter; and for these present days he stood with the 
woman he loved in the rare sweet sunshine and 
was satisfied. 


XX. 


A ND now the radiant days were ended and life 
was to begin in very earnest. To Sylvie the 
younger sister on her return confided her resolu- 
tion to make “ a busy winter.” 

“Oh, I shall try to do and to learn so much 
of everything! I want to be a good wife to El- 
wood — he is so kind! And Mother Everson will 
teach me a great deal, I know; she is a dear, gen- 
tle woman; I do hope we may have a real cheer- 
ful winter together, and that the girls will not in- 
sist upon chalking the line for me to walk by! ” 

She laughed merrily, half hiding her blushing face 
behind the castle she was building of Prince’s 
blocks, yet watching with keen interest her sister’s 
face. She detected instantly the slight shadow 
which crossed it at her last words. 

“ Sylvie dear, I will try to be — what was it you 
said, ‘wise as serpents’? It doesn’t sound pretty 
for a young wife, but if you say it is the thing, I 
will try hard for it.” 

182 


Whose Fault? 


183 

“I wish you would, dear; I do not think it is a 
very easy thing to go as you have, from a home 
where there were just a brother and a sister who 
perhaps made too much of you, into one where 
there are four sisters. I sometimes fear that 
perhaps I myself have not been wise, that I have 
not helped to prepare you for your new life and 
duties as I should have done.” 

“ Oh Sylvie! ” exclaimed her sister reproachfully. 

il It is true, dear; I know that in your position 
a great deal of care and forbearance is needed. 
We all have peculiarities and faults, we have to 
overlook a great deal, and to be patient with one 
another. Stewart and I love you so well that 
perhaps we do not see your failings as others 
would, and I fear that through our affection you 
are ill-prepared to encounter other natures less 
lenient.” 

“ Do not censure yourself nor be anxious, Sylvie 
dear; I promise you I shall look to my ways, and 
try to bear with other people as I shall expect 
them to bear with me. You and Stewart indeed! 
Why you have made my life so good between you 
that it must needs overflow a little and show some- 
what gracious to others. Never fear, my sister! ” 

Sylvie was fain to be content and to hope for the 
best, but she detected in her sister’s manner and 


184 


Whose Fault f 


look, a certain something which had never been 
there before and which made her anxious. It was 
indefinable, subtle. It was not dignity nor hau- 
teur, neither injured pride nor a determination to 
walk in her own way, it was perhaps a mingling 
of all these ; it was an armor, which this young 
wife had cast over herself as a sort of preparation 
for the conflict which she felt would come ; it was 
a lace-like armor like that of old ; but, like that 
too, it was very strong and serviceable ; Gertrude’s 
old gayety shone through it brightly, and no or- 
dinary friend could have discerned it upon her. 
Sylvie was not an ordinary friend. 

Rica was very loving with her old schoolmate, 
and made great efforts to get back to the old 
affectionate intimacy and freedom of intercourse. 
Gertrude was truly fond of this sister of Elwood’s, 
and she very willingly joined in her efforts to re- 
cover the long familiar footing, but it was not 
altogether easy. 

Advent season had brought its tender hush to the 
Church militant. Hearts glad with expectancy were 
yet solemn with thoughts of preparation, and the 
waiting time was a time of fasting and prayer. Ger- 
trude told herself that she did not approve of it all. 

“ It is not natural, it cannot be proper, to sit in 
sackcloth and ashes waiting for the best gift that 


Whose Fault f 


1 85 


ever came to man,” she said. “ I am sure it can- 
not be pleasing to the Gracious Giver.” 

She wondered why the Church kept the season 
in such solemn way; once she would have gone to 
Rica with ready questioning and a willingness to 
know, but now a sort of restraint held her, and she 
had no questions for any one, not even for her 
husband, who hoped that she might care to know, 
yet who would not vex her with explanations un- 
sought. 

She, walking per force in the shadow of the 
season, said to herself, “Why does he not tell 
me? ” not knowing how tenderly his heart yearned 
over her, how he longed that she should know all 
that he held sacred and sweet, yet would not tell 
her, lest he should seem to urge her more than was 
right. 

The quiet of the household ways, the absence of 
all gayety and of all amusement oppressed her, 
she was so accustomed to filling the weeks pre- 
vious to Christmas with good-cheer, with happy 
mirth, to hearing, on all sides, busy, bright sounds 
of preparation for the coming feast, unmixed with 
any solemn warning or searching prayer for fitness. 
Her days now were filled with thoughts and plans 
for her many gifts to the dear ones, that was 
chiefly what Christmas meant to her, and Advent 


Whose Fault f 


1 86 

was (as she saw it) only a joyous occasion of get- 
ting ready her presents and her surprises. If she 
had any spare time, her natural inclination was to 
spend it in scenes of special brightness and gayety. 
It seemed right to be glad and to make merry, and 
the double significance of Advent had not yet 
been made clear to her mind; thus it was that 
she found through the shadows of that Advent 
time the first thorn in her sweet flower of love. 
The daily service, attended by all the females of 
the household, without question or break, seemed 
in its monotony to fret her. She had gone with 
Elwood to the evening service several times, and 
once, much to the surprise and indignation of his 
sisters, he stayed at home with her when she had 
a headache. 

At an unfortunate moment at this season, 
Sylvie had mentioned the opera to her sister. 

“ Get Elwood to take you and Rica,” she had 
said in her unconscious kindness, “ you are both so 
fond of good music, and this is a rare treat, I as- 
sure you.” 

Nevertheless, she would have remained dumb 
forever on the subject of music and operas had she 
but known, this faithful Sylvie, to what endless 
trouble and pain she was by her simple suggestion 
leading her young motherless sister. 


Whose Fault ? 


1 87 


“So I will!” cried Gertrude. “I am thirsting 
for some real good music; I’ll ask Elwood, this 
very night.” 

Of Rica she had her doubts, but she would at 
least ask her. She went to her and found her play- 
ing the piano. 

“ What solemn, melancholy music you do play 
nowadays, Rica!” 

“Yes, it is more appropriate to the season, you 
know, and I always had a fancy for these weird, 
wailing things.” 

“Dear me, I haven’t! ” exclaimed her sister-in- 
law, bursting out with a gay trill of song such as 
she had been used to utter in the past girlhood 
days. 

Rica smiled at her, half-wondering yet glad too 
at the old familiar merriment. 

“ I didn’t mean to interrupt you, Rica, I only 
came to ask if you would not like to go to the 
opera to-night. It is ‘ Rienzi,’ you know, and Sylvie 
says it is very fine. I am going to ask Wood to 
take us, if you will go.” 

Poor Rica; she could not bear to pain this dear 
friend again, and almost felt she could say yes and 
find it no wrong if she had only herself to consult, 
but she was the youngest of the family, and she 
knew very well that there would be no forgiveness 


1 88 


Whose Fault? 


for her if she should do this thing for the sake of 
Elwood’s wife. 

“ Dear, you know it is Advent, and we never go 
to any place of amusement during the season, 
otherwise I should love to go with you. However, 
there will be the ‘ Messiah ’ in Christmas week, and 
as you love oratorio music we can go there to- 
gether.” She looked longingly into Gertrude’s 
face, out of which the sunshine was passing. 

“ Very well, Rica, you know best for yourself, 
of course.” 

She went slowly from the room, not angrily but 
sadly; she had always known that Rica loved the 
Church, and had often laughed at her for her devo- 
tion, but now it seemed to touch her more deeply, 
to set itself as a sort of barrier between them. She 
cheered herself with the thought that she and El- 
wood might at all events have a pleasant evening 
together. 

“We shall have many such through the winter,’ 1 
she said, as she busied herself over her embroidery, 
“ and Rica shall hear the ‘ Messiah ’ with us, for 
she is never severe and sanctimonious like the 
others! ” 

She dressed herself and went down the avenue 
to meet her husband on his way home. She had 
done this occasionally, and the sober man of busi- 


Whose Fault ? 1 89 

ness was very proud and glad of that sweet pretty 
face which was raised so gaily to meet his own. 

Gertrude appeared particularly attractive on this 
afternoon; her walk in the cold air and the thought 
of what she was to. ask Elwood sent a bright color 
to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. 

“ Why, my love, you look as fresh as a June rose 
here in this December blast! ” 

She laughed gaily, and taking his arm they 
walked on together, while many a passer-by looked 
a second time at the couple, he, tall manly and 
handsome, she so girlish and fair. They had not 
gone a block before Gertrude began on the subject 
which engrossed her thoughts. 

“ Oh, Elwood, I want to go to the opera, it is so 
long since we have been, and I am thirsting for 
some good music! Sylvie was at the matinee of 
‘ Rienzi,’ and she says it is very fine. Could we 
not go to-night, or, I don’t know about tickets, per- 
haps to-morrow night would be better?” 

At least she had given him time to recover from 
his first start of dismay, yet he had no ready 
answer for her as she turned her eager face to him 
with a light of perfect assurance upon it which al- 
most irritated him. Had she not learned through 
all the services what this season was to a devout 
Churchman? Did she care so little for these 


190 


Whose Fault f 


things that they failed to impress her at all? These 
thoughts flashed hotly through his mind and were 
gone; his old regretful tenderness of manner re- 
turned, and his eyes were sad as they looked down 
into hers while he made reply. She knew then 
before he spoke what his answer would be. 

“ My dear wife, you must be patient with me 
until you learn fully about our Church Year. Ad- 
vent is a solemn fast season with us; and our cus- 
tom is to refrain from the amusements and pleasures 
of ordinary times. You cannot know how it grieves 
me to say no to — or, rather, to postpone for a time 
— your request. I should enjoy the opera greatly; 
and I hope, when Advent is over, that we may go 
together many times. We will try to have a real 
pleasant winter, darling — our first winter ! — but 
it shall be bright as summer, if love can make it 
so! 

Her face was a study with its varied expressions, 
first a keen disappointment, then almost tears as 
she noted how dear this Churchly round was to 
him, above all other loves evidently — and again a 
look of tender relenting as he spoke of the winter, 
warmed and brightened by his love for her. How 
should she answer him ? Generously ? Striving to 
find her wishes parallel with his, — knowing how 
well he loved her ? Ah, if she had but said tc 


Whose Fault ? 


191 

him, “ Tell me of Advent and all its deep solemn 
signification, that I may learn to love and appre- 
ciate it as you do,” but she did not; and how could, 
he urge upon her a teaching for which she did not 
ask ? 

“ Very well, dear, we will wait, then; I dare say 
the play will be given again after Christmas.” 


XXL 

ERTRUDE went to the matinee with Sylvie, 
and told of it at home somewhat trium- 
phantly, it must be confessed, and her husband 
listening, answered her pleasantly, betraying an 
interest which shocked his sisters and called forth 
one of Jessie’s sarcastic remarks. It was only one 
of the many small clouds which were gathering 
in the fair sky — little things in themselves, yet 
tending all towards that bitterness- of feeling 
which is so destructive to family happiness and. 
peace. There fell a sweet calm of sunshine and 
good-will at Christmas, and the master of the 
Everson household thanked God and took cour- 
age. 

Mrs. Everson the elder sent an early and urgent 
invitation for Mr. and Mrs. Yates, as well as the 
young “ Prince,” to spend Christmas Day with 
her, and the invitation had been accepted. They 
had all attended service together, and this in itself 
was a great peace-offering, setting them all upon a 
192 


Whose Fault? 


193 


pleasant level for the time being, and affording 
a subject for general and amicable conversation. 
Even Jessie, who was happy in the presence of her 
affianced, Mr. Allan Brewster, seemed to have 
forgotten her sarcastic speeches and unkind in- 
nuendoes. Grace received with becoming smiles 
and blushes much banter from some of the party 
who had noticed how the young assistant of St. 
Ann’s had hastened to walk home with her. 

“ Did you not ask Mr. Sherwood to come in and 
dine with us, my child ? ” asked Mrs. Everson. 

“ Why no, mother; he is so very enthusiastic 
over the Christmas trees for the schools that I was 
afraid he would monopolize the conversation,” 
replied Grace, laughing good-humoredly. 

“That is why he attached himself to our Grace, 
he has discovered what a tireless worker she is, 
on all such occasions.” 

“ You see, Mr. Sherwood has taken upon him- 
self the whole responsibility of the Christmas 
festivals for the schools. Doctor Dorman is not 
able to undertake anything of that sort.” 

“ But oh, how solemn and beautiful Doctor Dor- 
man makes any part of the service which he takes, 
and what a sermon he gave us! ” exclaimed Ger- 
trude. 

“ Trude appreciates our dear old rector, she 


194 


Whose Fault f 


has good taste,” said Rica, who was always well- 
pleased at any praise for the revered clergyman who 
had baptized and proposed her for confirmation. 

With gay and cheerful conversation, with all 
good-will and kindness of feeling the day was 
passed. 

To those who could look back through the 
Church’s long vista of years and see with eyes of 
faith the world’s new-born Redeemer and feel the 
thrill of that sacred Infant smile, the day held a 
gladness and a meaning whose depth no others 
could fathom. This* was the beginning of that 
wondrous life which the Church followed through 
its years of sacrifice and pain and work, marking 
each scene with tender coloring of strange, sad 
reality. Once again this holy round was begun, 
once more the Church knelt at the manger-cradle 
of its divine Founder, laying its weight of trouble 
and need upon those infant hands, and counting 
one year more of warfare one year’s space nearer 
to the triumph when the kingdoms of the world 
shall have become the kingdom of its Lord and 
Saviour. 

Ah, what a day then was this Christmas! What 
mere worldling, what stern moralist or sage phi- 
losopher could fathom half of the great worth and 
glory of this Church feast ? 


Whose Fault? 


195 

There came a strange ending to this bright and 
joyous Christmas at the Everson home, one as sad 
as unexpected. 

It was late, the last guest had departed with 
words of merry cheer, the lights were dim, the 
younger women were lingering to chat pleasantly 
over all the day’s events, and Elwood stood at the 
window which he had gone to close, looking out 
upon the still, starry night; his thoughts had gone 
far back to that first Christmas night, when the 
angels sang for joy at the Redeemer’s birth and 
a strange glory shone out over Bethlehem’s 
plains. Suddenly he started in surprise. A 
carriage was driven swiftly to the door and a 
figure stepped out, which looked strangely familiar 
to him. It was — yes, it certainly was Doctor 
Dorman. 

He did not wait for the bell to ring, but went 
quickly to the door. 

“ Doctor Dorman! Is it you, sir ? ” 

“ It is I, Everson,” he answered, and his voice 
trembled with emotion. 

“ Can I see you alone for a few minutes ? ” 

“ Certainly, sir; walk right in here.” 

He took the clergyman to a small reception 
room and drew an easy chair to the fire, then 
noticing how worn and agitated he looked he said, 


196 


Whose Fault ? 


“Excuse me for one moment, doctor,” and went 
to get him a glass of wine. 

“ Thank you, Everson, thank you! I am some- 
what unnerved by that which I have come to tell 
you. It is so sudden, so unexpected! De Lancey, 
you know — ” 

He spoke in broken, nervous half-sentences, as if 
his courage failed him to tell the whole. 

Elwood sat down close to him, and his strong 
fresh manhood seemed to nerve the aged clergy- 
man. He looked full into the elder man’s face 
with a questioning gaze. 

“ Doctor Dorman, you may trust me. Do not 
hesitate if there is anything in which I can be of 
help to you.” 

“Thank you, Everson; I know I can rely 
upon you, that is why I have come directly to 
you, and moreover — De Lancey is — was — your 
friend.” 

“It is about De Lancey then? Yes, he is my 
friend; indeed, we are on very intimate and 
friendly .terms 'with all his family.” 

“ And yet you had no suspicion of this thing ? ” 

“ I had no least suspicion of anything wrong, 
sir. I have thought De Lancey rather more 
engrossed in business of late, possibly even a 
trifle harassed, but there has been nothing seri- 


Whose Fault? 


19 7 


ous, I feel sure, or he would have confided it to me; 
we are old college mates, you know.” 

“ Yes, yes, I know; but poor De Lancey has 
confided in nobody this time, Everson. He has 
gone, and all the money is gone with him — the 
money of the firm and our Church funds! There 
was a discovery of some forgery, and then De Lan- 
cey was missing.” 

“ No, no! ” reiterated Elwood, rising to his feet 
in sudden dismay. “ Oh no, it cannot be ! De 
Lancey — Grif De Lancey? ” 

“Alas, yes, my son! ” replied the old clergy- 
man. “ De Lancey our Church treasurer, the man 
whom we all have loved and trusted, in the hour 
of strong temptation he has fallen. May the 
gracious God yet raise him up! ” 

“ But, doctor, I cannot understand! If Grif were 
in trouble, in need, why did he not come to me 
and say so ? — we were like brothers together — or 
to his own brother? Poor Malcolm, poor young 
fellow! Where is he ? Does he know ? ” 

The strong man paced the floor, in sincere 
brotherly grief. 

“ Malcolm was away on business, they have sent 
for him. They came to me this evening, a few 
hours ago, Kent and the other partner; they had 
been to De Lancey ’s house, and of course had not 


198 


Whose Fault f 


found him. His poor young wife! I went to her 
as soon as I had told them all I could, which was 
very little; she is a frail little woman; I do not 
think she can bear up under a long pressure of 
trouble.” 

“And she was so proud, so fond of Grif ! Poor 
thing, I will go to see her immediately. There is 
nothing else to be done, doctor? ” 

“ I fear not. If you could go to her, Everson, I 
should be glad. Malcolm cannot get back before 
to-morrow at the earliest. I cannot tell just how 
much Mrs. De Lancey suspects. Of course they 
did not tell her, but his absence, and at such a sea- 
son, must seem strange to her at least.” 

“We will go immediately, doctor. I will see 
my wife and be ready in a few minutes.” 

Elwood went to his room, and on the way en- 
countered Rica. 

“ We are wondering if anything is wrong, Wood. 
Mother wanted me to wait and ask you.” 

“It is some one in trouble, and Doctor Dorman 
wanted my assistance. I may possibly be away 
all night, so do not be anxious. In any case, I 
shall be in to breakfast; I am going to see Gertrude, 
and then hurry away with the doctor. Good- 
night, my sister.” 

She thought there was an unusual tenderness 


Whose Fault ? 


199 


in his words and his kiss, but she suspected noth- 
ing, while he was saying to himself, as he has- 
tened on, “ Poor Rica! She and Malcolm will find 
the shadows early! ” 

He told his wife all that he had heard, only sug- 
gesting that for the present they should say 
nothing to the others. 

“ Let this day at least pass without the cloud,” 
he said, and with a caressing “Good-night,” he 
left her. 

Gertrude too felt sorry for Rica; she had guessed 
how much Rica and young Malcolm De Lancey 
were to each other, and what unspoken hopes for 
the future they cherished. Would all these be 
rudely blasted now? Poor Rica! 

Then came the girl’s soft voice at the door, and 
the two sat together, speaking of Elwood’s ready 
kindness, praising, as women are apt to praise, this 
man whom they loved, and the Christmas Day 
passed quietly away, the still, starry skies looked 
down upon the old world — the world which waited 
for its Judge as once it had waited for its Re- 
deemer. 


XXII. 


T?LWOOD was in at breakfast time, and his 
face told plainly that he had sad news for the 
family. 

“ But wait,” he said, “ I will tell you by and by. 
Let us have breakfast first,” and he made an effort 
to be cheerful during the meal. 

After prayers he took his mother aside and told 
her all. 

“Tell the girls, mother, please. I have asked 
Gertrude to go to Mrs. De Lancey soon. Some 
womanly comfort and presence will be more to her 
than anything which Doctor Dorman or I could 
say. Malcolm has telegraphed he will get in this 
evening.” 

Thus by the fall of one member, many members 
suffered; and Christ, through His Church, was 
wounded afresh! 

Gertrude recalled to mind how very particularly 
devout in his every action during service had been 
this Church treasurer; she knew how much he had 


200 


Whose Fault ? 


201 


been esteemed among the members of the vestry, 
what charges had been committed to his keeping; 
she said sarcastically, “ Mr. De Lancey’s devout 
Churchly ways had not much sincerity in them 
after all ! He has fallen as wofully as any 
Methodist, for all his vaunted ecclesiastical sup- 
ports ! ” 

The sorrowing women looked up at her in 
amazement, and Jessie’s face flushed with a fierce 
indignation; Gertrude would hardly have made so 
bitter a remark except for the awkward silence 
which fell upon the little group as Mrs. Ever- 
son finished her story from real life. No one 
seemed able to speak, and Rica’s white face, with 
its sudden pain, made Gertrude’s heart ache. Her 
thoughts rose up in indignant remonstrance against 
this man who from the midst of his many privileges 
and from his high position and proud profession, 
had so fallen, and brought such pain and trouble to 
others. She spoke out, scarcely realizing how bit- 
ter her words were, she was thinking only of the 
poor heart-broken young wife, and of the brother 
who was striving to win a place and a name among 
men, that he might ask for Rica Everson’s love. 

“It is hardly worth while to give the Church the 
benefit of your anger,” said Mrs. Richards, in her 
quiet, scornful way. “That venerable body will 


202 


Whose Fault? 


scarcely feel the blight of your tremendous scoff- 
ing.” 

“ Children ! My dear children ! ” cried the dis- 
tressed mother. “ Is it a time for such unkind 
speeches ? Is not life full enough of sadness, that 
you must say such things to each other ? ” 

*' It was too good an opportunity for Gertrude 
to let pass,” remarked Jessie with a curling lip. 

“ Poor Mr. De Lancey, how sorely he must have 
been tempted. You know, my dear Gertrude, a 
man’s sin is not the worse because he is a Church- 
man,” said Mrs. Everson with gentle reproval. 

“ Pardon me, mother, if I spoke too harshly, but 
one naturally expects more perfect uprightness 
from a man who carries a semblance of piety and 
devotion in his every action.” 

“ I suppose, then, you would in any case regard 
a Churchman as more worthy of censure than a 
Presbyterian or a Baptist simply because he kneels 
to pray, stands to sing, and bows reverently at 
certain holy things ? ” remarked Grace, who was 
always more ready to argue with her sister-in- 
law than were the others. 

“ If he does those things with a conscious pride 
and a Pharisaical look of being holier than his 
neighbors, — yes, I do consider that he is worthy of 
far greater censure. If your Church has, as you 


Whose Fault r 


203 


say, such strong and ancient supports for a man’s 
religion, if she surrounds him with such wondrous 
helps and lights and holy examples, then certainly 
more should be required of him than of those be- 
nighted ones who sit outside of all those influ- 
ences.” 

“ I think we are all somewhat too excited by 
this sad and sudden news to be able to argue or 
discuss such questions in a proper way. Let us 
rather see what we can do to help those who 
mourn.” 

It was Rica who spoke, and she seemed in a 
moment to have crossed from girlhood into the 
calm patience of true womanhood. She rose up, 
with her white face full of a pure trust. 

“ Trudie, would you mind my going with you to 
Mrs. De Lancey ? ” 

“ Mind it, Rica ? No, indeed ! I shall be only 
too glad if you will come. Elwood wanted me to 
go, and I know he would be pleased that we 
should both go. We have been there so often, in 
joyous days, it is only right that we should go 
now when such a terrible sorrow has fallen over 
the happy little household.” 

They met the aged rector just leaving the house; 
he looked utterly broken down, and it made their 
young hearts ache to see his bowed head, with its 


204 


Whose Fault? 


white locks, and the trembling hand which reached 
to grasp their own. 

“ God bless you, my children. Go and speak 
comfortably to the wife whom His Hand has so 
sorely chastened.” 

“ He will never recover from this blow,” said 
Rica, prophetically, as they stood watching his 
feeble steps. “ The disgrace to the Church will 
touch him so deeply, and he is not young enough 
to face boldly the sneers of a fault-finding world.” 
It was quite true. The faithful clergyman, who 
had brought many of them on the Christian way 
from the baptismal font to the bishop’s hands for 
confirmation, and thence to the chancel for the 
Church’s blessing in holy matrimony, was now 
nearing the time when he must give up his stew- 
ardship. It was sad to know that the account 
must close with a shadow upon the final page, 
albeit through no fault or neglect on his part. He 
preached but one more sermon after this fall of the 
treasurer of the Church, and that was a sermon 
which none who heard it ever could forget — so 
gentle, so pleading, so searching, so full of the 
quickening Spirit that it brought tears to every 
eye and touched deeply many a heart. 

His people had scarcely realized till then how 
much he was to them, this man of God who had 


Whose Fault? 


205 


dwelt in their midst so long, ministering to them 
with such zeal, such pure love, such unselfish- 
ness and careful wisdom! He had never been 
found “ too old ” for his position, neither were 
his words nor his counsels too “ old-fashioned ” 
for his hearers. Though there were many young 
people in the parish of St. Ann’s, no voice 
had ever been raised to pronounce judgment 
against the aged rector, as a man too much 
“behind the times” or “ not up to the standard 
of the day.”. 

He had taken a young assistant fresh from one 
of the foremost institutions of the time, and sup- 
posed to be well-grounded in all the intricacies of 
modern questions, yet there was scarcely one 
among his congregation who did not infinitely 
prefer the rector himself in almost any capacity 
and at any time. Possibly Grace Everson might 
be counted an exception, but Grace was in that 
state of bewilderment in which the mind grows 
somewhat confused over the difference between 
clergyman and friend. To do him justice, Mr. 
Sherwood was himself sadly grieved at his com- 
panion’s inability to continue in active charge of 
St. Ann’s. His generous words of approval were 
not lacking when the people proposed a season of 
rest and recreation for Doctor Dorman, together 


206 


Whose Fault ? 


with a continuation of the nominal rectorship as 
long as he lived. 

Perhaps no one regretted the retirement of the 
old clergyman and the active charge of the young 
assistant more than Gertrude Everson. She had 
conceived almost a dislike for Mr. Sherwood which 
she could neither account for nor rid herself of. 
There was an assurance, an assumption of wisdom 
in his manner which greatly annoyed her, it so 
strongly contrasted with the elder clergyman’s 
modesty and simple quiet demeanor. 

“ I don’t see how you can endure him, Rica ; he 
is like a puppet, with his mincing ways and his 
rainbow colors ! ” 

“ Oh, Trude, you are very harsh.” 

“ No, dear, I am not. Tell me, why should he 
wear all those colors about his shoulders, every 
few Sundays a different one, when good old Doc- 
tor Dorman wears only black and white ? ” 

“ Well, Doctor Dorman is rather more quiet and 
old-fashioned in his ways, and does not care for 
the changes of color appropriate to the Church 
seasons, but you see, Trudie, he allows it in the 
qhancel, and so there can be no impropriety in 
Mr. Sherwood wearing what he prefers.” 

“ If he had the modesty of feeling proper to a 
young man assisting an older one, he would find a 


Whose Fault ? 


207 


great impropriety in it, I think, and you know, 
Rica, that the chancel adornments are all made in 
accordance with Mr. Sherwood’s plans ! ” 

“ But the doctor does not object to any of 
them.” 

“ No, the doctor is too peaceful and likes har- 
mony too well to object to anything any more 
than I object or than Elwood does when your lit- 
tle man comes bowing up, and says, ‘ Well, next 
Sunday will be the Presbyterian Sunday, I sup- 
pose ? ’ It would be taking too much notice of 
him to object. I declare, Rica, if Doctor Dorman 
goes away and Mr. Sherwood preaches and has full 
charge, I shall feel like making every Sunday a 
‘ Presbyterian ’ one.” 

“ Oh no, Trude ; be more generous than that, 
and don’t regard the man who ministers ; think 
only of the beauty of the grand old liturgy which 
no man can spoil ! ” 

But Gertrude Everson had not yet found the 
completeness of that liturgy. She could not hear, 
through the voice of the present man, be he never 
so weak and faulty, the tones of apostles and 
Church fathers, nor the utterance of saint and 
martyr ; the ancient liturgy had as yet for her but 
a dim and incomplete music. 

Rica and the gentle mother were the only ones 


208 


Whose Fault? 


who kept any patience and forbearance for Ger- 
trude, who appeared so obstinate in refusing to 
love and abide in wholly the Church of her hus- 
band and his family. Between Gertrude and the 
other sisters the breach seemed daily widening. 
Harsh words, unkind insinuations, sneers even, 
tended only to confirm each one in her own way, 
and to leave no room for any generous thought or 
feeling. This state of affairs was especially notice- 
able after the fall of Mr. De Lancey, the Church 
treasurer, and the consequent trouble in St. Ann’s 
parish. 

Gertrude was not an ungenerous woman. She 
had large sympathy and pity for Mrs. De Lancey, 
but she saw in the fall of the husband only the 
result of what she called “ a formal show of piety,” 
“ an appearance of devotion and warmth, with no 
reality back of it at all. 

“If a man would bow and kneel more in the pri- 
vacy of his own room, and less in the sight of the 
people,” she pronounced, “ he might perchance be 
able to stand upright in the hour of temptation.” 

With such bitter utterances as these, Gertrude 
vexed her sisters-in-law, and turned their hearts 
against her, in those days of trial when the shadow 
of a brother’s sin lay heavy upon the spirits of all 
the members of St. Ann’s parish. 


XXIII. 


J^LWOOD had so much upon his mind and so 
much to occupy him more than usual, in those 
days, that he did not notice the constantly-widen- 
ing breach between his wife and his sisters. Mr. 
De Lancey had made a gap in the affairs of the 
parish which each one rose up in all pride and 
honor to endeavor to fill. Night after night El- 
wood Everson sat with the old rector and the 
vestrymen, striving to straighten out that which 
his friend had left so tangled and crooked. Ger- 
trude, missing her husband, spent those evenings 
at Sylvie’s. Sylvie and Stewart were quick .to dis- 
cern that their petted sister was not altogether 
happy, and it grieved them much. 

“ It is nothing, absolutely nothing but the 
Church ! ” she declared once, when they had ques- 
tioned her. “ Upon every other point, we are har- 
monious and united, but because I cannot give an 
immediate and complete acceptance of all their 
Church doctrines and theories, they denounce me 

209 


2 10 


Whose Fault f 


as a heretic, and think that I am ‘ruining Elwood’s 
life ’ ! ” 

She sighed, and looked so unhappy, so alto- 
gether different from the old merry girl Gertrude, 
that Stewart grew indignant. 

“ I declare, Sylvie, I am devoutly thankful that 
I did not marry a woman with four sisters ! I fear 
that sisters-in-law, as described by Trudie, would 
sour the sweetness of my disposition.” 

“I don’t know, Stewart. You are so kind, and 
never ready to take offense. I wish I were more 
like you. Then I dare say we should get on bet- 
ter.” 

“ I do dislike bigots,” said Stewart, and then 
he paused, for he was a wise man, and knew that 
he would not make Gertrude’s position any easier 
or pleasanter by speaking against her new rela- 
tives. 

Sylvie’s face wore a look of deep pain and anx- 
iety. 

“ I thought it was the best thing that could 
have been,” she said reflectively. “ I really felt 
glad and grateful that you were not to go to a new 
home, all by yourselves, you and Elwood ; it 
seemed so good that you were to be a part of the 
family where you had been intimate and friendly 
for so long ; I did not dream of any trouble !” 


Whose Fault? 


21 1 


“ And you must not now, dear ! I will not live 
in constant trouble with any one ; I will go away, 
when I can’t bear it any longer.” 

Gertrude said it half-laughingly, yet the look of 
pain beneath her smile did not escape the loving 
eyes which were watching her. 

“ Try to be wise and generous, Trudie. Make 
allowances for people, and for the training and 
habits of half a lifetime.” 

“ Yes, Sylvie, I will,” and she honestly meant it, 
yet the seeds of bitterness and misunderstanding 
once sown are difficult to uproot — swift of growth, 
and plentiful of fruitage. 

For a time the trouble seemed to be held in 
abeyance by the sympathy and tenderness between 
Gertrude and Rica, and by their mutual sorrow and 
care for young Mrs. De Lancey. 

Malcolm, the young brother of the forger, had 
come home, and was doing all in his power to com- 
fort his sister-in-law, as well as to unravel the 
tangled threads which his brother had left in his 
disgraceful flight. 

Sometimes Rica met Malcolm in those sad days 
of unexpected coming and going, and always 
the look of utter hopelessness in his eyes made her 
heart ache. She knew well what it meant. He 
had scarcely dared to show her his love by look or 


212 


Whose Fault f 


action before that shadow had come to darken 
his family name ; he was waiting on, until he could 
offer her a home which he considered in some way 
worthy of her. Now there could never be any 
more patient labor and fond waiting, for hope had 
been killed outright by that one cruel blow 
from a brother’s hand. No, he would not speak 
now, and yet how she longed to comfort him — to 
show him her unchanged heart ! 

Sorrow to her, as love to Gertrude, had opened 
the door into womanhood, and Rica and her old 
school friend were nevermore to be merry, light- 
hearted girls again, chatting of life’s future with 
gay words and bright prophecies. They drew 
nearer each other in those hours of sorrow, and 
Gertrude’s sympathy was very pleasant to her sis- 
ter. They used to sit sometimes together, some- 
times alone, with Mrs. De Lancey. She was utterly 
broken down. She had been a fair, frail creature, 
clinging wholly upon the strong arm of her hus- 
band, and now that had been so rudely, so sud- 
denly withdrawn, that she felt herself sinking, — 
drooping. No sunshine of life could ever revive 
her, no sweet air of heaven cause her to lift up her 
head. 

Three little children played about her, and 
looked wonderingly into mamma’s sad, white face, 


Whose Fault? 


213 


which refused to smile upon them, as it had been 
wont. Even these had no power to draw her from 
her silent despair ! It was sad to see them, as 
they brought their toys and dolls to “mamma’s 
room,” playing in a subdued way, and kissing the 
mother’s face with pretty, coaxing caresses. They 
became fond of young Mrs. Everson in those days. 
She loved children, and her heart was sad for these 
little ones, upon whose early sunshine the shadow 
of another’s sin had fallen. 

She spent many an hour with them, telling 
stories, dressing dolls, and listening to their soft 
prattle. 

“ Is my papa dead ? ” asked the eldest suddenly 
one evening as bed-time drew near. “ ’Cause if 
he’s dead I needn’t say ‘ God bless papa ’ any more, 
and I don’t want to, either.” 

“ I will tell you, dear Griffie ; you must ask God 
to bless your papa, and send him home to you 
again. God knows all about papa. We do not 
think he is dead ; but he may be lost or in trouble, 
and so we must all ask God to take care of 
him.” 

The little fellow’s mind was evidently struggling 
with the problem. 

“ He isn’t a good papa, else he wouldn’t go ’way 
and get lost, and make mamma cry and be sick.” 


214 


Whose Fault? 


Gertrude was casting about in her mind how to 
make answer to the child, when his uncle, Mr. 
Malcolm De Lancey, entered the room with a let- 
ter in his hand, and a strange, agitated look upon 
his face. 

“ It has come at last,” he said to Gertrude, 
handing her the unopened letter with its foreign 
postmark and his brother’s unmistakable hand- 
writing. 

The letter was addressed to Mrs. De Lancey. 

“ Oh, Malcolm, take it to her immediately. It 
is news, at all events ; however sad, it is certainty, 
and it will be a relief to her.” 

The young man’s strong face was drawn with a 
convulsive emotion. 

“ Gertrude, dear friend, I cannot. Do you carry 
it to her, please; a woman’s gentleness will be 
more comforting to her than a man’s blunt way.” 

She was starting to leave the room, when little 
Grif’s great eager eyes constrained her to pause. 

“ Is that a letter from my papa ? ” he asked 
before she could speak to him. 

“We think so, dear; it looks like papa’s writing. 
I am going to take it to mamma, and if there is any 
news for papa’s little son, you shall hear it in the 
morning, but never tease your mamma about it. 
Now go to bed, and dor’t forget your little prayer.” 


Whose Fault f 


2l5 


Gertrude had told her husband she would be 
there that evening, and he was to stop for her on 
his way home. She went away with the strange 
letter which perhaps would reveal so much. 

She was surprised to find Rica with Mrs. De 
Lancey. The girl had come in quietly, and hear- 
ing Gertrude with the children, had gone directly 
to the lonely mother. It was with a feeling of 
relief that her sister-in-law placed the letter in 
Rica’s hands and said briefly, “ Malcolm brought 
it. Give it to her.” 

She only stayed to hear a wailing cry of anguish 
and the rustle of the envelope in the wife’s 
trembling fingers, then she went back to Malcolm, 
who was pacing to and fro with bowed head and 
tightly-clasped hands. 

“Malcolm, Rica was there, and I gave it to her; 
I was glad she should be the one; it is more fitting 
that she should share your deepest sorrow, that 
she should stand closer to you all at this time.” 

He turned upon her almost fiercely in his great 
pain. 

“ And why, pray, is it fitting that Miss Everson 
should share our shame? Has she in her purity 
anything to do with our blighted lives; rather she 
should stand afar off from us, and turn her face 
away from us in our disgrace.” His voice broke 


2l6 


Whose Fault f 


at the last, and he turned to the window, peering 
out into the darkening night, to conceal his 
emotion. 

Gertrude’s heart was very heavy, as she saw 
his great sorrow. She went to him, laying her 
hand with gentle touch of sympathy, upon his 
arm. 

“ My dear friend, forgive me! I am Rica’s sister, 
I have been her close companion for years, I know 
her heart — how tender, how loyal, how true it is ! 
If I had committed a sin, if I were shamed in the 
eyes of the world, I would still go and lay my head 
upon Rica’s breast, and feel sure of her love. Oh, 
Malcolm, it is in times of sorrow and trouble that 
our loved ones are best and truest to us. Do not, 
I pray you, shut Rica out from sharing this grief 
with you.” 

He turned and looked into her pleading eyes, his 
own wild with an unspoken pain. 

“ It would not be fair, not just to her ! I could 
not, could not, Gertrude! All through these past 
months of sunshine, I have been loving her; 
hoarding up, as it were, my treasure, till I could 
lay it at her feet fearlessly, feeling sure that I 
could make her life happy; and now, now — do you 
think I would speak now, offering her such an 
insult ? ” 


Whose Fault f 


2i 7 


“ Why, Malcolm, I would love my husband all 
the more for a trouble like this, and any true 
woman would feel the same. I think,” (her voice 
growing gentler and more pleading), “ I think 
Rica is lonely, and feels your keeping away from 
her very keenly.” 

“ Do you think she cares, Gertrude ? ” 

“Cares? Why, Malcolm, I know that her heart 
is full of care and sympathy and kindness for you, 
and that she longs to tell you it all, but cannot, 
because, you see, you have so shut yourself away 
from her.” 

“ And I love her so! I love her so! ” he moaned 
to himself. 

There was a soft step on the stairs, and Rica 
opened the door. 

“ We are waiting to hear what you have learned, 
Rica. Shall I go to Mrs. De Lancey ? ” 

“ No, she is lying down, and is quite calm — too 
calm, I fear.” 

“ I hear Elwood at the door,” cried Gertrude 
suddenly, and she ran out, closing the door after 
her and leaving poor Rica standing in the middle 
of the room, while Malcolm, wide-eyed, gazed at 
her from the window. 

She was the first to recover herself and to 
speak. 


2l8 


Whose Fault? 


“ Malcolm, I am so sorry for you ! ” she said 
simply, and her voice seemed the sweetest musi 
the young man had ever heard. “ I cannot tell 
you how sorry ! But never mind, life is not 
all dark ; the sunshine will come again by and 
by.” 

He went near to her, holding out his hand. 

“ Is it so, Rica ? How you comfort me! I 
thought all the sunshine had gone out forever, but 
your face and voice and the touch of your kind 
hand tell me of hope.” 

He held her hand with a caressing touch, look- 
ing upon it as one might look upon some precious 
thing to be resigned. 

“ The hand of a pure, true woman, spotless from 
any wrong, white with the sunlight of good deeds, 
and free from any shadow. It must never come 
near to evil or to disgrace! ” 

“ Malcolm, if I could go to your brother, I 
would; and hold out my hands to clasp his own, 
saying, ‘Rise up, dear friend, and seek the right 
and the light! ’ and do you not think I should 
be purer and better myself, by just so much 
of help and hope which I could ^give to a fallen 
brother ? ” 

She allowed him to retain her hand in his 
caressing hold while he spoke, and his thirsty 


Whose Fault? 


219 


heart drank in each sweet refreshing word; then 
he bent his head to touch his lips to that pure 
hand, but what he might have said was prevented 
utterance by the entrance of Gertrude and her 
husband. 


XXIV. 



RIFFITH DE LANCEY wrote to his wife; 


v “^ she alone of all the world, he said, would 
understand and forgive him. He wanted her; if 
she could come to him there in the far, strange 
land whither he had fled, he would reveal all to her; 
and perchance they might make a new beginning, 
they two who had once before begun life with such 
fair hopes and promises. It was a suppressed cry 
of agony, shame, and love; none saw the wife read- 
ing it, with tear-blinded eyes, and white, quivering 
lips; for Rica, having placed the letter in her hands, 
kissed her, whispering, “Be strong!” and then 
withdrew to an adjoining room, where she could 
hear if she were called, or if any need should come 
for her. 

The husband’s cry from over the deep waters 
roused the frail woman and seemed to give her 
courage and strength. She sent for Malcolm, 
and said to him when he had read the letter, “ I 
am going to him, Malcolm; will you help me?” 


220 


Whose Fault? 


221 


“ Yes, my sister, I will.” 

Then she asked for Doctor Dorman, and to him 
she said what she could say to no one else. Her 
pale face took on a look of calm after that hour 
spent with her aged rector, and she said, “ Let me 
have my dear friends in a last service of Holy 
Communion before I go, that they may afterward 
remember me when in that Blessed Sacrament they 
kneel pleading for all who are in trouble, sorrow, 
or need.” 

That was such a service as Gertrude Everson had 
never before known; it moved her strangely, though 
she perversely strove to hide her emotion when the 
keen-eyed and ever-watchful sisters were noticing 
her. She had long ago ceased to give them credit 
for any kind motive or intention; she felt that they 
only wished to coerce her, to insist on her attend- 
ance at the Church services, and whether this 
were true or not, the effect of her opposing deter- 
mination was the same. 

Her husband hailed with gratitude the slight 
calm which fell over the troubled waters during 
this period of Mrs. De Lancey’s need. He made 
an effort to be present at this solemn service re- 
quested by Mrs. De Lancey. He was her husband’s 
old friend; they had spent many happy h^urs to- 
gether, many sacred ones too within the courts of 


222 


Whose Fault? 


the Lord’s house; he longed now to do all that was 
left him for the wife whom a calamity far worse 
than death had overtaken. 

The aged rector was so overcome by his emotion 
that he was obliged to pause many times during 
the sad and solemn service. His thoughts would 
go back to the clear* unshadowed past! How of- 
ten had he administered those “holy mysteries” 
to Griffith De Lancey! How often had he bade 
him “Do this, in remembrance of” the blessed 
Master! How often, indeed, had he looked into 
the young man’s face and thought, “ Here is one 
who will ever stand by the Church, helping her 
with his strength and generosity and love! ” 

Alas, who knoweth the weakness of man’s heart? 
Only One, who can also forgive unto the utter- 
most! 

For the time, Gertrude Everson forgot her scorn 
for the man whose forms of devotion had so often 
offended her; indeed she told herself that her indig- 
nation was not so much against the man as against 
the system in which he had been educated. 

“ Can that be helpful and true which teaches 
that a mere posture or form of any sort has any 
value? Of course it is proper enough to observe 
certain of these things; we are all naturally in- 
clined to change our position, and to act reverently 


Whose Fault? 


223 


when we pray, but why do these people spoil all 
that, and rob it of its meaning by posturing so inces- 
santly, both in season and out of season?” 

If Gertrude had only addressed such questioning 
observations to one or other of the Everson family, 
possibly in due time some enlightenment might 
have come to her. Even Sylvie and Stewart 
recognized this, but both were too fond of her, and 
too fearful of adding a feather’s weight to her 
anxiety, to tell her what they thought and felt. 

“ If Trudie would just say that very thing to Miss 
Rica, or to her husband,” Stewart would exclaim 
sometimes when he had watched the pretty, dearly- 
loved face pass from sight bearing traces of the 
conflict, “ I venture to predict that she would find 
her way out of this maze. One hates to suggest it 
to her, but I do really wish she would talk to 
Everson of these things! He is such a first-rate, 
sensible fellow, and, as the school-girls say, he 
‘just perfectly worships’ Trude. I don’t believe 
he has any idea of how she is fretted with these 
things, nor how his people worry her with their 
persistence.” 

It will be seen that Mr. Yates took a rather one- 
sided view of what he called “ these things.” Per- 
haps he was not wholly to blame for that, since 
he could not very well obtain any view from the 


224 


Whose Fault ? 


other side, the stand-point for which was within 
the quiet, unseen precincts of the daily life of the 
Everson household! 

Thus there seemed little hope of “ these things” 
improving, or of any better understanding being 
arrived at between the sisters-in-law. 

When the gentle lull which all unconsciously 
Griffith De Lancey had created, (the usual good 
which lies hidden somewhere behind every dark 
cloud) reached and passed its climax in that 
solemn service, matters suddenly resumed their 
accustomed aspect. 

To the very last, Mrs. De Lancey’s friends 
grouped about her, clasping hands in this sweet 
service of love and forgetting all differences for the 
time being. Nothing was left undone which kind- 
ness and pity could suggest. Quickly, almost 
without preparation, she took her little ones with 
eager, trembling hands and started to go to her 
husband. What mattered it to her that the world 
said harsh things of him, that people stood aghast 
at his crime; nay, that possibly prison-doors 
waited to open to him ? What mattered it to her 
that his old friends and acquaintances spake 
wonderingly together, searching for a reason, an 
excuse perhaps, accounting for that sin which had 
blackened his bright name ? She did not seek for 


Whose Fault? 


225 


either word or excuse yet, she must get to him; 
he had called for her, he wanted, needed her; 
she was his wife, she must go; nay, she found 
strength and life in the thought of going. She 
also wanted him. Oh, wondrous love of woman! 
This frail creature who seemed about to sink under 
the sudden blow, now rose up mighty in her love 
and started upon her long journey without one 
moment’s hesitation. Once only, and to Mal- 
colm, did she speak of any blame which might 
possibly attach to the man she loved. Malcolm 
was going with her, he had announced. It was 
evidently what they all expected, and she said 
nothing then, but when she and Malcolm were 
together, with no others near, she said to him, 
“ Malcolm, you are very kind to go with me, and 

I shall be glad of your care as far as B , there 

you must leave me. See! ” and she handed him 
her husband’s letter, in which he said he would 
meet her at the next station, only a few miles 
from B 

“ And why may I not go on from B with you, 

Alice ? ” 

Her breath came in quick, hard gasps, and her 
cheeks burned with spots of vivid color. 

“ Because, Malcolm, you are a man, and men, 
even brothers, have such hard, rigid ideas of 


226 


Whose Fault ? 


things; they cannot overlook and let things go 
and say nothing, as women can; you must let me 
go on alone, my dear brother.” He knew that she 
was right; he could scarcely have met his brother 
without a reproach; his keen sense of honor, his 
hurt and shamed dignity, all the eager manhood 
that was in him, would rise up to censure the bro- 
ther who had wrought such havoc, who had 
brought shame upon his family, his friends, his 
Church, and his Christian name. 

No one was told of this plan. Little talking was 
done among the faithful few who stood with Mrs. 
De Lancey till the last, and bade her God-speed 
when she started. Only the repetition of kind, 
earnest comforting words, then the old rector’s 
last trembling prayer and his blessing, the clasp 
of loving hands, a gush of blinding tears, Mal- 
colm’s strong tender arms, which lifted her like a 
child and placed her in the carriage, and all was 
over at this end of the broken chain. 

She had gathered the poor, glittering links in 
her faithful hands, and she was going to him with 
her woman’s deathless love and trust, to bind all 
together again, supplying all that lacked and was 
lost by her own boundless grace and generosity. 
God grant to her, and to every other such woman, 
strength and wisdom sufficient unto the task. 


XXV. 


A LAS, that the sunlight wrought of Christian 
^ love and sympathy should die away so soon! 
It would seem that the generous feeling which 
had helped Mrs. De Lancey to bear her trial, and 
which made her departure comparatively easy, must 
have lived on, helping other burden-bearers, mak- 
ing other crosses lighter, smoothing away rough- 
ness and “ all uncharitableness,” but it did not. 
Whose fault ? 

Doctor Dorman had gone away to try what 
change of scene and rest from all labor would do 
for him. The vestry decided, after careful deliber- 
ation, that the whole charge should be given, for 
the present at least, into the hands of Mr. Sher- 
wood. 

The rector had always shown confidence in his 
assistant; he was a faithful, tireless worker, and 
had given evidence of a real interest in -all the 
affairs of the parish, more especially since the re- 
cent trouble. The congregation generally agreed 

227 


228 


Whose Fault? 


with the decision of the vestry ; at all events 
they were scarcely in a position to be severely 
critical, had they felt any such inclination, and 
there appeared to exist a desire for generous and 
amicable action. 

From all this agreeable and united state of 
affairs, it must be acknowledged that Mrs. Gertrude 
Everson had deliberately excluded herself ; deliber- 
ately and yet with a certain grief and foreboding. 
She saw how her husband’s relatives were watch- 
ing her at this critical period, and considered it 
unjust and ungenerous of them. 

“ Only another instance,” she said to herself, 
“ of that partial and bigoted enthusiasm which 
their ecclesiastical system produces. They are 
overflowing with generosity and leniency toward 
this young man, but they can scarcely be just to 
me, or make the least allowance for my likes and 
dislikes.” 

It was the Sunday on which she went with her 
husband to his own Church. The beauty and the 
peacefulness of the fair day of rest were somewhat 
marred for her, even from its very beginning. Still 
and beautiful was the wintry sunshine and the 
pleasant hush which sealed the usual daily occupa- 
tions, but no calm came to Gertrude’s spirit. 

She struggled bravely against the feeling which 


Whose Fault ? 


229 


oppressed her, but she did not realize just where 
the trouble lay. She felt hurt, wronged, ill-judged. 
Her husband saw that she was not as bright as it 
was natural for her to be, but he wisely forbore to 
remark upon the fact. He conjectured the proba- 
ble cause, and sighed weariedly as he wondered 
how long it would be before this wife whom he so 
loved would learn to care for those things which 
were all-important to him. 

While he was thus thinking, Gertrude stood by 
the window waiting for the breakfast bell and de- 
bating with herself whether she should ask a favor 
of Elwood or not. 

“ It surely ought not to be much to ask of one 
who has been a husband less then eight months. 
Such a favor, too, it would seem might be granted 
even before the asking.” 

So she argued with herself, and found a willing 
listener, and easy convert. 

“Elwood,” she began, turning suddenly, with 
the flush of a quick decision upon her cheek, 
“ would it be asking too much to request you to 
go with me to — to the — Presbyterian Church this 
morning ? You don’t know how I dislike the idea 
of listening to Mr. Sherwood; I am quite sure I 
shall neither enjoy the service nor derive any bene- 
fit from it.” 


230 


Whose Fault? 


She moved slightly towards him, with a pretty 
pleading manner which he usually delighted to 
notice. It failed to charm him that morning. 
Alas, he was never again to be charmed by it 
as he had been. He felt irritated and the very 
strength of his love made it more difficult for him. 

“ If I only loved her less ! ” he cried within him- 
self, and was angry — vexed that he did not love 
her less. 

“ My dear wife, you indeed ask too much ! 
One must have a certain regard for appearances, 
for one’s friends, for what is just and right, 
and—” 

“ I beg your pardon then for asking such a 
thing,” she interrupted. “ I did not comprehend 
We will say no more about it.” 

He was startled at the quick change in her face; 
though her voice was gentle and calm, it was as if 
a breath of ice had touched her, taking the warmth 
from her words and smile. Instantly, with a strong 
revulsion, the whole force of his tender love tided 
back in a flood which threatened to overwhelm 
reason, sense, propriety, everything; he was almost 
alarmed at the intensity of his passion. 

“ My darling, I have hurt you ! I did not mean 
it; I spoke too hastily. We will talk over this, and 
think what is right.” 


Whose Fault? 


231 


His arm was about her, and they stood together 
in the fresh morning sunlight. She had much ado 
to keep back the tears, but she determined to be 
brave and to bear this which had been added. It 
was such a little thing to ask, and she had thought 
*he would agree to it without hesitation. After 
this, what did any thing matter ? 

“No, Elwood, we will do as you think best; it 
can’t make much difference, after all.” 

He was vexed with himself for speaking with- 
out more consideration. He would try to make it 
all right, he thought. 

The sisters appeared cheerful and somewhat talk- 
ative at breakfast. Grace was evidently slightly 
excited, and the others seemed quite sympathetic. 

“ It is not to be supposed that our Grace will 
pine for Doctor Dorman ! ” said Mrs. Richards, 
with a little meaning smile. 

“ It would be a very foolish thing to do, when 
we have such an excellent substitute,” answered 
Grace frankly, with a laugh and a blush. 

“Yes, I doubt if the vestry could have done a 
wiser thing than to put every thing into Mr. 
Sherwood’s hands,” said Mrs. Everson the elder, 
speaking with a calm, unbiased judgment. 

Her son thought this was his opportunity. 

“Well, you all seem so very amicable, so enthu- 


232 


Whose Fault f 


siastic indeed, and there is a prospect of things 
going on all right without us, so I guess that Ger- 
trude and I will go to hear old Doctor Grey this 
morning.” 

Before Gertrude herself could add any word, a 
“whole torrent of exclamations,” as she afterwards 
expressed it to Sylvie, burst forth from the others 
and effectually silenced her. 

“ Nonsense, Wood ! You can’t certainly intend 
to do so marked a thing as that; it will be a direct 
insult to Mr. Sherwood.” 

Gertrude’s lip curled. 

“ I should suppose that in some slight sense it 
might be supposed to be required of you to be 
present on this occasion, since there is nothing to 
prevent,” said Grace, sarcastically. 

“ Why, certainly it is required of him, and he 
knows it. I think he is only teasing us,” said Mrs. 
Richards, catching a glimpse of the pain in her 
brother’s face, behind its forced smile. 

“ Oh, yes, my son will do his duty, I have no 
doubt of that,” spoke the mother, with her quiet 
assurance. 

“ I shall not hinder him, for I am going to your 
Church,” said Gertrude coldly. “ You might have 
saved yourselves the trouble of all this excite- 
ment ! ” 


Whose Fault? 


233 


“I offered to go with Gertrude to Doctor Grey’s, 
as I know she is not partial to Mr. Sherwood, but 
you see she is too generous to allow it.” 

Ehvood spoke with a pleading look into his 
wife’s face, but she scarcely seemed to notice it. 

“Well, I must say I am surprised that you 
should think of such a thing, Elwood ! and on 
this especial Sunday, too ! when every one should 
make an effort to be in his place ! ” 

“Spare him your reproaches and know that the 
fault was entirely mine, and now if you will excuse 
me, mother, I will go and prepare myself for the 
service of this quite immaculate Church, among 
whose prominent members may be found forgers, 
and I know not what other high-toned individual 
Christians.” 

She ended with a little laugh which had no 
music in it, and her husband followed her from the 
table with a new strange pain at his heart. The 
whole bright world seemed to be turning dark and 
cold. 

Poor Grif! was the Church of Christ to bear the 
shame, the reproach of his great error, and was 
his wife, his loved and honored Gertrude, to be- 
come so bitter, so blinded, that she could not see 
the Church apart from this man’s sin? He had 
never heard her use such harsh words before. He 


234 


Whose Fault f 


longed to see her looking at this thing with her 
old clear, unbiased vision. 

“ My darling, we are the Church militant now, 
fighting daily, hourly, against the sins that tempt 
us. Now and then one fails, falls under tempta- 
tion too strong for him, as poor Griffith did, but 
that does not blacken the whole body. Those 
who are stronger ought to help the weak and the 
fallen ones, and thus the Church may keep her 
Master’s way, all through the weary battle of life 
and at last become the Church triumphant.” 

He sat down by her side, taking her hand in his 
while he spoke. Her lips trembled, and she could 
not look up into his tender, sorrowful face; she 
knew she had been unjust, wrong. Her heart 
yearned toward this strong, true husband, whose 
love of her made him at times almost weak! 

“ Yes, Elwood, I suppose I did speak harshly, 
but they aggravate me so. Never mind; let us not 
talk of it; it will do no good.” 

Gertrude had not lost her sense of what was 
right and just, but knew quite well that she owed 
an apology to her mother-in-law for the manner 
in which she had spoken on leaving the breakfast 
table. 

She now left the room and went to seek the 
elder lady. There was ample time before they 


Whose Fault t 235 

started for service to perform this duty, and so to 
relieve her mind of at least one of its burdens. 

Elwood’s mother received her kindly, and giving 
her a chair, sat down by her side. There was an 
atmosphere of peace in the mother’s room. Ha- 
vens of rest are they all, these blessed “ mothers’ 
rooms.” If Gertrude had had one to go to in her 
girlhood troubles, perchance she would now have 
been wiser and more tender toward the erring. 

Even now there waited for her in this mother’s 
room such safe counsel and gentle persuasion as 
she would have done well to follow. 

When she had offered her apology, expressing 
regret for her too hasty words, Mrs. Everson re- 
plied, “ That is all right, my dear. I knew you 
were vexed and harassed, and said what you did 
not wholly mean. But now that you and I are 
alone together, let me say a word of advice, which 
may perhaps keep you from future trouble. You 
will let an old woman speak, one who has been 
married so many years and who has gone over all 
the ground before you. My child, do not try your 
husband’s love too much! He is only human, and 
a man’s patience has its limits; try to make his 
likings your own, to merge more your wishes in his, 
to have a care for that which you see is dear to 
him. A true man’s love only grows more and 


236 


Whose Fault? 


stronger by these wise means, and a woman never 
loses by yielding to her husband’s wishes. You 
will know, my child, that I speak for your own 
good, and you will, I am sure, take kindly what I 
say ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied Gertrude rather stiffly. “ I 
appreciate your kind intentions, and I will try to 
follow you advice.” 

Then, as she rose to go, the mother detained 
her, to kiss her cheek, and to say, “ You know, 
Gertrude, that we all love you, and want you to 
be one of us, and as happy as is possible.” 

“Yes, mother, I know, I understand,” and sud- 
denly a great yearning came over her, her pulses 
beat fast, her eyes filled with tears and she could 
with difficulty repress a sob. She hastened away, 
her heart oppressed with a strange sense of deso- 
lation, as of being in her husband’s household, yet 
not of it. 


XXVI. 


TT is difficult to explain that “continual drop- 
A ping ” which wears away the stone; the word, 
the sneer, the small insinuation, the little here and 
the little there, which are not much in themselves, 
but which in the aggregate weigh down the heart 
and exhaust the patience. 

It was sad to see the brightness dying away 
gradually from the old home; to find no special 
cloud, and yet to know that the sunlight was 
growing dim, for who could lay a hand here or 
there and say, “ This is the trouble, behold the 
cause! ” 

There had been a more definite increase of the 
cloud since that memorable Sunday morning when 
young Mr. Sherwood had assumed full charge of 
St. Ann’s. It seemed hardly possible for Gertrude 
or her sisters-in-law to forget the harsh sayings 
which had passed between them on that occasion; 
not that alone either, but those very words ap- 

237 


238 


Whose Fault? 


peared to act as seeds sown to produce other 
scenes of harshness. Worst of all was the state of 
affairs between Gertrude and her husband; they 
loved each other quite as well as ever — such love 
as theirs does not die in a day — and yet, alas, that 
such shadows should be allowed to lie over it, 
darkening all its beauty and grace! Something 
had come between them. Was it his unguarded 
reply to her request of that Sunday morning? He 
had tried, in his reserved yet tender manner, to 
atone for whatever sudden brusqueness in his re- 
mark might have hurt her. He had tried to prove 
how true he was to her in every fibre of his being, 
how all his thoughts and wishes revolved about 
her, and that life would be scarcely life at all with- 
out her. She responded to his love kindly and 
gently, but the bird-like gayety of her laugh and 
song was gone; a strange reserve had come over 
her; she was not fretful nor fault-finding with her 
husband, but she seemed constrained, not at her 
ease. 

He hoped, prayed, that it might pass, that she 
would recover her old light-hearted way, he took 
her everywhere — to the opera, to oratorios, con- 
certs, to the homes of their gayest friends and ac- 
quaintances. She acceded to his requests, smiled 
in his presence, and was apparently contented 


Whose Fault? 


239 


enough to have suited many a less demanding 
husband. 

But the feeling of enmity and opposition between 
the sisters-in-law increased daily ; it was chiefly 
through a lack of understanding one another. 
Elwood’s sisters, and his mother too in a less de- 
gree, supposed that Gertrude was determined to 
oppose and to reject all Churchly advances, to 
have none of them, to steel her heart against 
them ; “ and,” said they, “ it is not right. As the 
wife of a devout and sincere Churchman, she ought 
to fight against any such inclinations, to put them 
down with a strong hand and a resolute will, to 
use every opportunity possible for acquainting her- 
self with these things which are dear to him.” 

Arguing thus, they never ceased urging Ger- 
trude to attend the various services, placing mat- 
ters before her in those lights which to them were 
so clear and convincing, even on certain occasions 
almost insisting on her accompanying them ; and 
when she on her part also insisted on refusing, 
they were not sparing with angry or contemptuous 
reproaches. Rica alone must be excepted from 
these charges ; she never ventured on any reproval 
or reproach more stern than a regretful silence, 
which hurt her sister-in-law far more, yet did not 
anger nor vex her. Sometimes, but rarely, a slight 


240 


Whose Fault? 


return of the old affectionate familiarity between 
Gertrude and Rica would bring about a talk upon 
some Church subject or a Church day, when one 
would venture to plead for what she so loved, in 
her gentle simple-hearted way ; and the other to 
put her off, as she had done many times before, 
with light words and kind laughter ; but those 
pleasant occasions grew less frequent, and Rica’s 
own private cause for anxiety made her more 
thoughtful and quiet than usual. 

Gertrude, finding that her husband’s sisters were 
evidently determined to force her into the Church, 
naturally rebelled against it, and began to feel less 
and less inclined to see any good of any kind in 
that most ancient and catholic body. She would 
not allow herself to examine any more the little 
Prayer Book which she had procured for herself in 
happier days with such loving and honest inten- 
tions ; she perversely turned from any discussion 
of either fast or festival ; she would not, so she 
said, “ allow others to lead her whither they 
pleased ; she was quite capable of judging and of 
learning for herself ; she despised bigotry and 
proselytism ; she could reason things out for her- 
self if necessary, but she would not be driven to 
accept any system of worship, nor any religious 
doctrine.” 


Whose Fault? 


241 


Then, as her heart grew tender at the thought 
other husband, “ If Elwood and I were away by 
ourselves, it would be so different ! He knows 
they are wrong ! He cannot but see how they 
prejudice me against the very things they would 
have me accept, and yet he is so fearful of hurting 
their feelings, so anxious for peace and harmony, 
that he will not say a word of rebuke to them. It 
is not right ! He should stand by his wife, and 
make things easier for her ! His mother and sis- 
ters are so much to him ! ” and her foolish, jealous 
heart would begin to ache. 

Sylvie’s faithful heart ached almost equally, in 
sympathy, and Stewart, always partial to Gertrude 
and proud of her bright wit and loveliness, ex- 
pressed his feeling in no measured terms. 

“ I don’t care, Trudie, how much of a Church- 
woman you become, I shall never say a word nor 
smile a smile against any forms you may choose to 
take upon yourself, but I would not, if I were you, 
allow myself to be worked upon by designing 
women. Be independent, whatever you are.” 

“ Sylvie would say, ‘ Be peaceful, whatever you 
are,”' answered Gertrude, with a sad little smile at 
her sister. “ I hate disagreements, dear, as much 
as you do, but I do not see how it is to be helped, 
unless we separate.” 


242 


Whose Fault? 


“Could you come home to us for a while, 
Trudie ? Would it do ? Would Elwood be hurt 
at the suggestion, do you think ? ” 

Sylvie asked the sudden questions half breath- 
lessly, because of their very audacity. She was 
too faithful, too happy a wife herself not to realize 
the full weight which attached to her words, and 
yet she wanted her sister to get back her old girl- 
hood gayety and gladness. 

“What do you mean, you darling old Sylvie? 
Am I to come back here by myself — just as if — it 
— hadn’t been at all, or are we to come, Elwood 
and I, to live here -with you and Stewart and this 
blessed young Prince ? ” she broke down com- 
pletely, catching up, in her old way, the wonder- 
ing child and striving to hide her quivering lips 
and overflowing eyes behind his sunny tresses. 

It was all a very vague talk, yet it held a sug- 
gestion — a faint, dim suggestion which grew and 
enlarged gradually to proportions of a startling 
reality in the mind of the unhappy wife. Was it a 
suggestion of the devil, or was it a wise and hon- 
orable purpose, leading out to better and higher 
things, a means to an end, the inspiration of a 
good spirit which never wholly forsakes the Chris- 
tian in his darkest hour of need ? Who shall 
say ? 


Whose Fault ? 


243 


“ Unless we separate ! ” Gertrude had uttered 
the words thoughtlessly, half in jest, half in a reck- 
less despair which seemed to hedge her way on 
every side. 

“ Unless we separate ! ” They came back to her 
later, when she sat alone in the room which her 
husband had taken such pains to adorn and make 
pleasant for her. 

Separate ? Oh no, they could never do that ; 
she could not, for she loved him too well ; for him, 
well, she was not so sure. He had loved her when 
they were married, such a little, little while ago; 
perhaps he loved her yet, but there were so many 
other affections to engross him — his mother and 
his sisters — he was so careful of their feelings, he 
could not (or would not) stand out against any of 
their foolish whims, their persistency about Church 
customs ! If he loved her, surely he would take 
her part, and be more thoughtful for her likes and 
dislikes ! What was a service more or less, a 
saint’s day, or a high festival even, compared with 
her happiness and comfort ? 

If he had taken such a stand, she knew she 
would soon have learned to care for the Church 
and to enjoy its services ! She had been inclined 
that way ; it only needed a little care and atten- 
tion on her husband’s part, and a little less of in- 


244 


Whose Fault ? 


terference and thrusting on the part of his sis- 
ters ! 

No, they could not separate, but might she not 
go away for a while, just for a time, to try to 
recover from the disappointments which had 
spoiled her married life ? She could not suggest 
any other way of living, for she knew Elwood 
never would leave his mother; besides, the old 
home belonged to him, and should a change be 
suggested, it would seem like a thought of turning 
his mother away from it. No least word of hers 
should ever do that ! She loved Elwood’s mother, 
and could have found it in her heart to be a very 
fond, very devoted daughter-in-law, had not these 
other matters risen up to interfere. 

While she sat quietly brooding over these 
things, she heard the door of an adjoining room 
open, and voices speaking somewhat unguardedly. 
Her own door was partly open, and evidently the 
speakers supposed she was not in. She sat in the 
shadow, leaning wearily back in a great easy 
chair. It was a strange voice which first fell upon 
her ear, and the words it uttered were these, “ He 
seems to me greatly changed — so sad and 
absorbed ! I knew he was much attached to Mr. 
De Lancey, yet I felt that could not wholly account 
for the change in him.” 


Whose Fault ? 


245 

“ No,” that was Mrs. Everson’s voice, and a 
sigh followed the single word, then other words 
which smote Gertrude’s heart, yet she had no 
alternative but to hear them, unless she betrayed 
her presence, and the time taken for questioning 
which she should do, made it too late. 

“ No, I fear my son’s marriage has not made him 
happy. No one should marry out of the Church ; 
trouble is sure to come of it. We have hoped for 
the best, but Elwood is a disappointed man, 
and—” 

Gertrude, in an agony of shame and fear, thrust 
her hands tightly over her ears and held her 
breath until the two ladies, still speaking, had 
passed along the hall and down stairs. Then she 
rose softly, locked her door, and knelt with bowed 
head by the chair where she had sat. 


XXVII. 


OHE had arrived at her decision before it was 
^ quite time for her husband to return. Then 
she arose, and began to dress for dinner. Her 
eyes were dry and her cheeks burned; she trembled 
violently at first, but finally conquered that, and 
made her toilet calmly and carefully. She bathed 
her head and tried to appear bright. 

“ I must think clearly, I must have no silly, 
girlish headache,” she said to herself, “ I must at 
last do the right thing.” 

She went down stairs to meet her husband when 
she heard his key in the door; his tender kiss sent 
a thrill of pain through her heart, but she smiled, 
and answered, “ Yes, dear, quite well,” in reply to 
his affectionate inquiry. When they sat down at 
dinner, she glanced at him furtively now and then, 
to note the change in his face of which they had 
spoken, and all through the conversation she con- 
tinually heard those terrible words : “ My son’s 
marriage has not made him happy ! ” Each one at 
246 


Whose Fault? 


247 


the table seemed to be repeating them to her. 
She answered questions, took her part mechan- 
ically in the conversation, yet all the while seemed 
to hear nothing save those words, those few awful 
words. What is it now to her that Jessie speaks 
in her emphatic way, as if calling every one to pay 
attention, of the coincidence of Ash Wednesday 
and the festival of St. Matthias coming on the 
same day ? 

What does it matter now, all this talk of plans 
for keeping the Lenten fast, Grace’s enthusiasm 
over the card of services, which Mr. Sherwood has 
made so very excellent, or Rica’s pleasure at the 
fact that several members of her Sunday School 
class had become candidates for confirmation, 
which would take place about Easter ? None of 
these Churchly events, however long they kept 
place in the conversation, seemed to trouble 
young Mrs. Everson that evening. 

Several times her husband looked at her some- 
what inquiringly, as if wondering if she were weary- 
ing of the subject, but her face was calm, though 
he thought her color greater than usual, and 
when, as they passed from the dining-room, he 
took her hand in his own, he exclaimed, “ Why, 
Gertrude, how hot your hands are ! Are you 
feverish ? ” 


248 


Whose Fault? 


“ Oh no, I think not. Possibly I have a little 
cold.” 

“ Perhaps you had better be quiet then. Would 
you like to sit in your room and let me read to 
you ? ” 

“ Oh no, thank you, Elwood ; that would be too 
selfish ! We had better stay with the others to- 
night ? ” 

And why to-night? he wondered. Perhaps be- 
cause Lent would begin to-morrow, and then the 
many services and duties would not allow of their 
all sitting together often of an evening. It was 
thoughtful of her, he said to himself, and drew her 
to him fondly. 

She shivered involuntarily. 

“ Why, my darling, you have taken cold ! ” he 
exclaimed solicitously, and she had to submit to 
be taken care of, and to receive some precaution- 
ary dose which her mother-in-law brought, in her 
usual kindly way. 

“ Ah yes,” spake Gertrude’s evil spirit sneer- 
ingly, “ this all looks very amicable, but am I not 
the cruel wife who has made your son unhappy 
and his marriage a disappointment ? ” 

The evening passed quietly, and though Church 
topics were naturally the principal ones of the 
general conversation, Gertrude showed no resent- 


Whose Fault? 


249 


ment, as she had on other similar occasions; her 
heart was too full of other and bitter thoughts. 
She passed a somewhat restless night, and looked 
so ill in the morning that Elwood suggested she 
should not go down to breakfast, but have a cup 
of coffee in her room. 

She was very glad to yield to his suggestion, 
though she made light of her indisposition and 
tried to laugh at his fears. 

“ Do not have the least anxiety about me, dear 
husband,” she said to him at parting, and he won- 
dered at her earnest manner as she placed her 
hands on his shoulders and looked up into his eyes. 

*• Dear little wife, how can I help feeling anxious? * 
he said fondly. 

“ Oh, but you must not; remember I say so; 
there is no cause for any anxiety; I shall be all 
right. Good-bye, dear.” He remembered after- 
ward an unusual affection and tenderness in her 
kiss. He went away with a lighter heart that 
Ash Wednesday morning. He had said that he 
would attend service at a down-town church, as 
his letters must be received at the office, and he 
would not have time to come up to St. Ann’s. 
This he had said at the breakfast table, and re- 
peated it to Gertrude up-stairs; she was relieved to 
find that he would be away all day; she wondered, 


25o 


Whose Fault? 


with a little trembling half smile, how much of a 
reprimand he had received down-stairs for his pur- 
pose to stay from St. Ann’s for a service elsewhere. 
Or had his sisters been more lenient, in considera- 
tion of his wife not being present to share the re- 
proof?” 

“ I am always the culprit, there is little doubt of 
that! ” she said, her cheek flushing at the thought 
of certain well-remembered words of censure. 

“ Well, I shall give them all a great relief, not 
for their sakes though, but for his whom I have 
disappointed and made unhappy.” 

She dared not, however, let her thoughts dwell 
upon Elwood; she could not bear it, and her time 
was limited. 

She had completed many little arrangements 
before Rica came to her room, as Gertrude knew 
she would, to see how she was, and to ask if there 
were anything which she or mother could do for 
her. 

“ You are really ill, Trudie, and I shall stay 
from service this morning to take care of 
you! ” 

“ Thank you very much, Rica, but you shall do 
nothing of the sort. You may do something else 
for me, however, if you will.” 

44 ‘ If I will? * Why, Trudie, my dear sister! ” 


Whose Fault ? 


25l 


“Ah yes, I know; but this is — well, have you 
half an hour to spare for me, Rica? ” 

“ Certainly, dear.” 

“ And will you promise to keep a little secret 
which I am going to tell you — at least to keep it 
in your own true heart as long as you can? ” 

Rica, whose guessing passed far wide of the mark, 
answered readily — “Yes, Trudie, I think I may 
promise you that; but you are growing whiter 
every minute. Let me get you something! ” 

She gave her a little wine, and then sat down by 
her side, as Gertrude requested. 

“Rica, you must not interrupt me, please; I 
must say it all quickly, or I shall not be able. 
I haven’t much courage, but I feel that I am doing 
what is my duty; the best thing I know how to do. 
So neither must you try to oppose me; it will do 
no good. 

Yesterday, Rica, I heard your mother tell some 
one (I sat here with my door partly open, and I 
could not help hearing,) that I had no right to 
marry Elwood; that he should have married some 
one in the Church; and that he was unhappy 
through his marriage, and a disappointed man. 
Hush dear, don’t speak yet; you can’t unsay it! I 
have thought it all over; I cannot stay with him 
— with you all — any longer. It would kill me! I 


252 


Whose Fault? 


am sorry; I did not understand, or I never would 
have married him. Wait!” 

She was fast breaking down, and she held up a 
warning hand to Rica not to interrupt her; going 
on, with rapid, broken sentences, trying to keep 
back the sobs which half-choked her utterance: 

“ I am going away. I want him to try — if — he 
will be happier without me; to try it really, 
thoroughly, honestly. He must not — no one must 
— worry about me. I am going — not to Sylvie — 
but away where I shall be alone and quiet, and 
have time to think. There will be no need for 
anxiety, and as for others, outside people, say to 
them that I am gone for my health. It is true; I 
could not — could not, Rica, live here among you 
now; my heart is breaking! ” 

“ Oh Trudie, my sister — my dear sister! ” 

It was all Rica could say; she was so utterly 
taken by surprise that she found no words to ex- 
press her pain, no way of urging Gertrude to re-con- 
sider her decision. It was just as well, for Ger- 
trude’s mind was made up, and nothing that her 
sister-in-law could say would cause her to change 
it. 

“ Rica, my best of sisters, my true friend, you 
must not worry for me, nor grieve; I shall be bet- 
ter away from you all and more contented, know- 


Whose Fault ? 253 

ing that I am not vexing you nor hindering El- 
wood.” 

“But Trudie, there is a mistake; there must be! 
Mother never meant — ” 

“ Yes, Rica, mother did mean just that hard 
thing which she said. Don’t try to change things; 
but listen! I want you to keep it from them all, 
dear, as long as you can. Go to church, and — pray 
for me! It is the time for self-denials, you say; 
this, then, shall be my denial; I will deny myself 
my — husband, and go away to keep my fast.” 

She spoke not in derision, but with a deep sad- 
ness. 

“When at last you are home from church, and 
must tell them, Rica, do it as kindly for me as you 
can, and tell it gently for Elwood; do not let him 
be vexed or grieved over it. He will come to see 
the wisdom of it, after a while. It will leave him 
free to please his sisters. Dear, you must not cry; 
you will be obliged to go soon. Listen, Rica; lam 
going to Sylvie’s while you are at church, to say 
good-bye, and to let her know where I shall be; 
but she will never tell any one; then I shall go. 
Oh, Rica, sister, think of me as kindly as you can! ” 
She was completely exhausted, and sank back in 
her chair panting with dry, half-frightened eyes, 
and cheeks which paled and flushed alternately. 


Whose Fault f 


254 

“ Don’t persuade, dear; just sit here by me a lit- 
tle and let me remember how good and patient 
you have been to me ” 

“ Oh no, no; I have not ! I have been too eager 
— we all have — to get you to like our way; I have 
been exacting, and thoughtless, and selfish ! And 
what did it matter after all ? What does anything 
matter, so we but live together happily and peace- 
fully, loving each other and doing right ? ” 

“ Never mind, Rica dear, all will be right some 
day. Kiss me now and go. I can bear no more ! ” 

Rica felt stunned, bewildered, as if she were walk- 
ing in a dream. She put her arms about her old 
friend, and thoughts of all the happy school days 
and the pleasant companionship came back in one 
tumultuous wave. Only the recollection of her 
promise to Gertrude and her simple desire to serve 
her in some way kept her from weeping hysteri- 
cally. 

“ Good-bye, dear sister, kind friend ! Tell him 
— it is all right ” 

Gertrude, with a last kiss, pushed her sister 
gently to the door, and when she had closed and 
fastened it, she gave way to her first uncontrolla- 
ble tears, which relieved her aching and over-tired 
brain. 

Less than an hour afterward she heard the 


Whose Fault? 


255 


mother and sisters pass from their rooms and start 
for Church. Rica kept her counsel well, for Ger- 
trude heard Mrs. Everson’s anxious voice asking, 
“ Are you sure she has all she needs, my child ? 
Could I not do something ? I dislike leaving her 
so.” 

And Rica’s low reply, “ I am sure not, mother; 
it will be best of all for her if she can sleep, or is 
sleeping.” 

Faithful Rica ! Having given her promise, she 
would keep it, if possible, no matter at what cost 
of pain to herself, and Gertrude knew well how lit- 
tle of her accustomed pious pleasure Rica would 
find in the service of the Church that morning ! 
Perhaps, however, she would find some comfort; 
Gertrude hoped so. 

When the Church bells had ceased ringing, the 
young wife who was- deliberately forsaking the 
duties of wifehood rose and dressed for her strange 
journey. She carried only a satchel. Sylvie could 
send more by and by. Upon her husband’s desk 
she left a letter for him; it had somewhat more of 
warmth and tenderness than the farewell with 
which she had entrusted Rica for him. 


XXVIII. 


TT would be a difficult, an almost impossible, 
A undertaking to try to describe Sylvie Yates’ 
feelings when her sister’s plan was unfolded to her. 
She saw — as Rica had seen — that any attempt at 
dissuasion would be useless. The utmost which 
she could induce her sister to yield, was to 
allow Stewart to go with her on part of the 
journey. 

After a strange, sorrowful attempt at a meal 
together, the two sisters left little “Prince” in 
charge of his nurse, and went to Mr. Yates’ place 
of business. 

Two white, tear-stained faces, closely veiled, 
were turned to meet Mr. Yates’ cheerful, unsus- 
pecting countenance, but Stewart Yates was a 
kind-hearted man, little given to questioning other 
people’s actions or motives. It came to pass that 
by the time Elwood Everson, with a heart some- 
what lighter than usual, despite the remembrance 
256 


Whose Fault? 


257 

of his wife’s slight indisposition, started for home 
that evening, Gertrude was far upon the journey 
which was taking her from him by her own delib- 
erate choice. 

Stewart had persuaded her that if it were only 
“ for appearance’ sake,” she must allow him to go 
with her to the journey’s end, and to order her 
room at the place which she had selected. 

“ It is a quiet little rural hotel where Elwood 
and I stayed last fall. I will take a room there, 
for the present, at any rate; and if some of 
the kind people will afterward take me in to board 
in their family, so much the better.” 

“ But, dear child, doesn’t your husband come 
here at times, and isn’t he in constant communi- 
cation with his people here ? ” 

“Only with his foreman, Mr. Hopson; and I will 
make it all right with him. Elwood will not visit 
here very soon, I think.” 

A spasm of pain crossed her face, and she 
turned away from her kind, watchful brother-in- 
law. 

He was very sorry for her, although he could 
not see either the wisdom or the satisfaction of the 
step she was taking. 

He thought suddenly, as he looked at her pretty 
face, of three or tour “first-rate fellows,” Presby- 


258 


Whose Fault? 


terians, honorable and respected, with fair pros- 
pects before them, who would any one of them 
have counted it a white day in his calendar 
had Gertrude Preston looked upon him with 
favor. 

“And any one of them would have made her a 
good husband, such an one as she needs, one 
whose bringing-up has been like her own, and who 
could understand her as she could him,” — he said 
to himself, half angry at — well, he did not know 
just who or what ! 

It was at the same hour in which Gertrude and 
her husband had arrived at the little station among 
the hills. It all rushed upon her suddenly as they 
alighted and took the one omnibus, or hack, or 
whatever they called the nondescript vehicle which 
carried all the stray visitors to the quaint little 
hotel. 

How natural it all seemed, and yet how differ- 
ent ! Then, the last glory of autumn lingered, 
beautifying and gladdening everything; now all 
was cold, dull, cheerless — without a forecast of the 
spring-time that was so near. Was it so really, 
or was the change made by her own empty, aching 
heart ? 

“Oh, why did I come here ? Why did I choose 
this place ? ” she asked herself, as the bitter com- 


Whose Fault? 25 g 

parison between the past and the present made 
her falter and grow faint-hearted. 

As if catching the echo of her thoughts, her 
brother-in-law said, “I am afraid you will be dull 
here, Trudie; it seems a stupid sort of place; you 
must be sure to let me know when you want me to 
come and take you away.” 

“ I — I — enjoyed it when I was here before, but 
it does seem dull now; I suppose the difference is 
in myself.” 

“Well, don’t pine away here all by yourself; 
that is my advice to you, Trudie; and remember 
that I stand ready at any minute to mount guard 
over you in any journey.” 

“ Thank you, Stewart; I know; I should never 
hesitate to come or send to you in any case ; 
you have always been a good brother to 

„ ^ » 

me. 

He heard the quiver in her voice, and began 
speaking of other things — the rugged scenery, the 
winding, rushing river, and the pretty little 
church, as they entered the village, and he decided 
that there must be some hidden beauty in the 
place which would show itself in the spring- 
time. 

“ If you stay, Trudie, I will gladly spare Sylvie 
and Prince, to come and get a tonic here in this 


26 o 


Whose Fault f 


air when the spring days begin to drag upon peo- 
ple” 

It was not elegantly expressed, but Gertrude 
recognized the warm heart back of the words. 

“ That is good of you, Stewart; it would be 
pleasant to have them here. I used to think about 
it—” 

She broke off abruptly; everything recalled that 
other happier time; and how, indeed, could she 
hope to evade the recollection ? She had brought 
this upon herself; there was no help for it now; 
she must try to bear it. If she could only be left 
alone, to shut her eyes, and try to forget for a 
minute! 

The grey stone church stood out clear amid the 
bare trees, defined against the afternoon sky. The 
cross seemed to hold out its arms to her, as if to 
say, “ You cannot omit me from your life. Why 
not fold me to your heart, until I shall take on 
warmth and color from your patience, and grow 
light and beautiful through your love ? ” Why, in- 
deed ? And she was striving to leave her cross 
behind her, to live her life without it, to free her- 
self from its clinging weight, though after all it is 
only a little while to bear, — and then the still 
white grave-stones there below: that was the sum 
of human life, the cross and the grave! She said 


Whose Fault? 


261 


it to herself, and while its mournful sound echoed 
in her thoughts, lo! another’s words came back to 
her, ringing with what a different tone through her 
heart — 

“ It is the Church militant now; fighting daily, 
hourly against the sins that tempt us. Those who 
are stronger ought to help the weak, and thus the 
Church may keep Her Master’s way, and at last 
become the Church triumphant! ” 

How different was that view of life! It was the 
same cross and grave, but glorified and lighted up 
by faith and bravery and hope; it had a sound of 
victory, of joy in the battle-field of life, because of 
One whose banner gleamed brightly, ever leading 
on through all temptations until the militant be- 
came the triumphant.” 

It was very quiet at the little hotel, even more 
quiet than it had been in the fall, when she had 
stood there on its balcony, laughing and happy. 

Yes, she had been a happy wife then, though at 
the time she scarcely realized it, because of certain 
dim shadows which flecked her sunlight. 

Ah, if she could but get back to just that much 
of happiness again; but no one ever gets back; 
we must all go onward, onward; and if we reach 
to touch any joy, it must be through patient, per- 
severing, steadfast effort towards the right. 


262 


Whose Fault ? 


Gertrude waited in the dim, stiff little parlor 
while her brother-in-law secured her a comfortable 
room, giving the landlord and his kind, interested 
wife the best reasons he could for Mrs. Everson’s 

coming to H . They both knew Elwood well, 

and remembered his wife’s former visit. 

“ She needed a change, and she always spoke so 
pleasantly of your country about here, that it 
seems just the spot in which she ought to recruit,” 
spake honest, generous Stewart Yates, keeping to 
the truth, yet shielding his young sister with all 
tenderness and care. 

Yes, they remembered quite well how Mrs. Ever- 
son had enjoyed her stay there, “ but what a pity 
that the young master could not have come with 
her; she was sure to be lonely without him, they 
were such a fond, happy pair.” 

The good people rattled on, and Stewart in- 
dulged them, listening good-humoredly ; telling 
himself if they said it all to him, they would be 
less likely to trouble poor Trudie with it. 

When at length he went back to Gertrude, she 
discovered that he had sent a dispatch to Sylvie 
telling her that he would not be back that night; 
that he had taken a room next to her own, and 
would be there to “see how she felt in the. morn- 
ing.” 


Whose Fault ? 


263 


“Who knows?” this patient man said to him- 
self. “ Things look differently sometimes when 
they have been slept over, and our little Trudie 
may change her mind in the morning, and want to 
go back with me.” 

“ Oh Stewart, how good you are! I don’t de- 
serve it! ” Gertrude exclaimed, pausing at the 
door after he had seen her safely in her snug 
room, and was going back to order some 
supper. 

“Don’t you? Well, I don’t know; you have 
been a pretty good little sister to me always, 
Trudie, and all I ask of you now is to be as happy 
as possible here; not to fret and worry more than 
you can help, and to send m@ a line every time 
you want a book or some music or anything — even 
to my wife and son! ” 

“You dear, dear old Stewart!” she cried, with 
an instant’s return of that girl-gayety which had 
pleased him in days gone by. 

He turned away laughing, but with a choking 
sensation in his throat which he had to get rid of 
before he could order the supper. 

Gertrude sat, when he had gone down, with 
clasped hands, thinking how terribly alone she 
would have been if Stewart had gone, and left 
her that night! How glad she was, that he 


264 


Whose Fault? 


had stayed ; how very kind and thoughtful he 
was ! 

“ What a happy woman Sylvie is, or would be if 
she had not me to worry her; such a husband, and 
no sisters-in-law nor — ” well, that was all; the sis- 
ters-in-law comprehended everything in her list of 
grievances, she said; “for if there were no sisters- 
in-law, there would be no trouble to be made, 
and no one to make it! ” 

Stewart, with his kind, cheery ways, and his 
pleasant talk, made the evening pass as it certainly 
would not have passed without him. He kept her 
from brooding, by his constant reference to some- 
thing outside of herself and her grievance, and 
jested about the place and .the people, saying he 
expected her to write a book about them, with 
copious illustrations from life. 

It was only idle chatter, apparently; but there 
was a generous and benevolent spirit back of it all 
which atoned for the levity. When at last he sent 
Gertrude to her room for the night, she was so 
taken out of herself, so wearied with the long day 
full ofincident, and so bewildered by the new phase 
of life in which she had placed herself, that she 
soon fell asleep, and amid troubled dreams passed 
the night. 

Mr. Yates’ last words to the landlord in the 


Whose Fault? 


265 


morning were these — “Take good care of Mrs. 
Everson; and you shall never lack for patronage. 
I dare say you may look for some of us here when 
the spring has grown inviting.” 

Thus was it that this erring young wife began 
her self-imposed exile. 


XXIX. 

“ TV /T OTHER, a strange thing came to me dur- 
ing service this morning.” The Rev- 
erend Doctor Price sat down by his wife, and 
looked into her face with a troubled perplexity. 

The gentle old lady returned his gaze wonder- 
ingly for an instant, then she said, “Yes, Roland, 
I see there has been something. What was it ? ” 

He smiled at her answer. 

“ If I wanted ever to keep anything from you, 
mother, I should have to hide my tell-tale face. 
In forty years of married life I have not learned 
to conceal things from your keen, loving eyes.” 

“ No,” she answered thoughtfully. “ Perhaps I 
look a little more closely, Roland, because of 
there being just the two of us. If God had given 
you a son to make a companion of, I dare say I 
should have grown less watchful.” 

“ But God has only given me other men’s sons, 
and though I appropriate them wholly, they lift 
no burden from your shoulders. When old El- 
266 


Whose 'Fault? 


267 


wood Everson once said to me, ‘ Price, if I should 
be taken away, and leave my boy, have a little 
watchful care for him, will you?’ I took the 
lad that moment into my heart ; and he has 
stayed there ever since, keeping strong hold of 
my affection through his own lovable, earnest 
nature.” 

He paused for an instant; and his wife looked at 
him with that patient wonder which she invaria- 
bly used when awaiting the development of one of 
his stories. 

“ Mother, I think — I am quite positive — that I 
saw Mrs. Everson, young Mrs. Elwood Everson, in 
church, this morning. She sat in a pew far back, 
and was veiled; but I think I cannot be mistaken. 
She went out, I judge, during the prayer for the 
Church militant, and, mother, it struck me that 
there was something sad, something not just right, 
about the young lady.” 

“ It would seem that there was something 
strange at least in the fact of Mrs. Everson being 
in the place and attending service without waiting 
to speak to you or making her presence known in 
any way; we must find out, dear, but carefully.” 

“Yes, mother, very carefully,” repeated the 
clergyman, straightening his tall, fine figure, and 
pacing slowly back and forth. 


268 


Whose Fault f 


This man had a way of getting at the troubles 
of his people and of giving them comfort and help 
as no one else could. He had never disappointed 
them, and they had a most perfect reverence and 
affection for him, because he had been to them al- 
ways, and in every case, that which they needed. 

When the young missionary whom the Bishop 

first sent to H had done his work, when the 

Church building was completed and paid for, when 
the Sunday School was in full running order, and 
all the foundation-stones of an active and thor- 
oughly-furnished parish were laid, then the older 
people were desirous of having a priest, an elderly 
clergyman, who could take full charge, not need- 
ing any assistance from outside. Indeed the 
young deacon himself saw the necessity, and will- 
ingly laid the case before the Bishop. Thus it had 
come about that he was transferred to another 
parish needing a start; and the Reverend Doctor 

Price asked to take the position at H . The 

choice had been a thoroughly wise one, and El- 
wood Everson, at whose suggestion the invitation 
to his father’s friend had been presented, and who 
had urged that clergyman to accept this position, 
never regretted his effort. 

Dr. Price’s supposition regarding the lady whom 
he had seen in church that Sunday morning was 


Whose Fault? 


269 


correct. Gertrude had many misgivings, and 
many hard contests with her inclinations, be- 
fore she had decided that she. could attend service 
that day. 

“ But I cannot hope to keep my presence here a 
secret, and I may as well face the thing at once; 
it will only be the harder for waiting.” 

The landlord’s idea — fully concurred in by his 
good wife — respecting Mrs. Everson’s health, and 

her hope of renewing it by a stay at H , found 

ready belief with any one who saw that lady. She 
had changed sadly in a few day; her face had 
scarcely a trace of its old color; her sparkling eyes 
had become dull, her manner listless; she was but 
a faint shadow of that bright young wife who had 

visited H in the previous autumn. She had 

gone to service that Sunday morning, and hoped 
to escape observation — or at least conversation — 
by leaving the church during the last clauses of 
the closing prayer. There was the Holy Com- 
munion to follow; but alas, Gertrude did not feel 
quite ready for that, and probably some who knew 
her might go out before the final service; so she 
chose to take a few minutes from the prayer time, 
to place herself out of reach of any of these. 

And now the good clergyman began to plan 
how to act in the wisest and kindest manner for 


270 


Whose Fault f 


all concerned. Should he call at the hotel and 
find out if Mrs. Everson really were there ? Or 
should he wait for another Sunday, to make sure ? 
Or better still, should he let his wife act according 
to her womanly intuition? While he hesitated, a 
happy opportunity brought him out of the difficul- 
ty. Happy, I say; probably not so happy to all 
concerned as to the perplexed clergyman, for it 
was beside the cradle of a dying child that Doc- 
tor Price met Mrs. Everson. 

She heard the next evening of the dangerous 
illness of the little Jones baby, the one whom she 
had held and tended during her former visit at the 
cottage. She did not hesitate long after hearing 
the landlady’s news; she felt an interest in poor 
Mr. Jones and his little family, and doubtless she 
could cheer or help them in some way; at all 
events, she would go and make the effort; her life 
had been so barren, so empty of all interest during 
these last few days, that she longed for something 
to occupy it. 

“ But excuse me, dear madam, I am so fearful 
that you’ll be taking cold, or doing too much; you 
look so weakly, and I promised the gentleman — ” 

“What gentleman ? ” interrupted Gertrude, with 
a foolish fright. 

“ The gentleman who came here with you, 


Whose Fault ? 


271 


ma’am, — your brother — he bade me take care of 
you, and — ” 

“Oh yes, that is all right, Mrs. Parsons; you 
are very kind to think of it. I promise you I shall 
take care of myself; I think the air this evening 
will do me good; do not worry ! ” 

“ But, bless me ! ” cried the astonished Mrs. 
Parsons to her husband as the lady went on her 
way, “ how will ever she get home again, and the 
sun a-setting this very minute ? She knows no 
more about the country than a child, and not a 
gentleman to come home with her! ” 

“ I reckon my lady’s a bit wilful, but don’t fret; 
she’ll find Doctor Gregory, or some one, I’ll war- 
rant, to bring her home; most likely the minister 
himself will be at Jones’ house.” 

And he was, before Gertrude had been there ten 
minutes. He found her with the sick child in her 
arms, singing to it in a low, soothing tone, while 
its mother prepared something for its relief. The 
old clergyman thought it a pretty picture, as he 
stood at the door to notice. There was a sadness 
in it, deeper than that caused by the child’s possi- 
bly fatal illness, a sadness which he could not 
name, which lay in the very beauty and grace of 
this woman who, far from husband and home, 
grasped so eagerly at this foreign care and love! 


272 # Whose Fault? 

“ Why, Mrs. Everson, is it you — here? ” he said 
gently, going toward her with outstretched hand. 

She grew a trifle paler, and said, with a faint 
smile, “ Yes, Doctor Price, it is I. Do I surprise 
you ? I think we have met in this little home 
before, but the poor child laughed and crowed 
then. Oh, why does not Doctor Gregory come? ” 

Evidently she did not wish to speak of herself, 
or of why she was in the place. He looked keenly 
at her face, as she bent over the suffering little 
one; a very sweet face, he thought, but oh, how 
sad, and a trifle — yes, it certainly was a trifle 
harder, less tender, than it had been in the first 
days of her married life. 

Aleck Jones was about and at his work again, 
still somewhat lame and a little weak, but he 
called himself a well man. He was fretting at the 
delay of Doctor Gregory. 

“ Not a patient man yet, ma’am,” said his poor 
wife apologetically to Gertrude, who thought his 
impatience altogether excusable and natural, and 
who noticed with a pang that glance of wifely 
pride which accompanied the slight word of re- 
proval. 

Doctor Gregory arrived at last, kind and bus- 
tling as usual, as tender with these poor “ mill 
people ” as with any wealthy patron whose money 


Whose Fault ? 


2 73 


was as nothing in comparison with the physician’s 
skill. Imagine his astonishment at seeing the 
suffering child lying upon the arms of Mrs. Ever- 
son; yet he had so schooled himself to betray no 
surprise or agitation in any sick room, that he 
simply held out his hand saying, “ How do you do, 
Mrs. Everson? Doing good, as usual! ” 

Then, — oh, how gently! — he raised the little one 
from her lap into his own strong arms, looking at 
its pinched white features with his keen eyes. 

“Doctor, tell me the truth (excuse me, you 
always do that, sir,) but tell me quick! ” exclaimed 
Aleck Jones, with a roughness which they all knew 
only covered an agony of fear and fatherly love. 

“ Yes, Jones, I will tell you honestly, for I know 
how brave a man you are. I do not think your 
little one can possibly live till morning, but I will 
stay right here and do all that is in my power, 
my very best, for you,” as he spoke the last words 
with his kind touch on the father’s arm, his eyes 
sought Mrs. Jones. Gertrude thought she had 
never seen such sympathy expressed in any man’s 
face. Had she come there to learn to what pure, 
grand, generous heights human nature can reach ? 
Verily, she had gone there to learn something, — 
much! 

Then it was Doctor Price’s turn. While the 


Whose Fault? 


274 

weeping mother held her child, doing from time to 
time as the doctor suggested, the clergyman spoke 
a few wise and comforting words to the parents, 
and then knelt by the side of the dying little one 
to pray. What a beautiful prayer it was, that 
Prayer for a Sick Child! Gertrude Everson’s tears 
fell fast as she listened. 

Having done all that he could, and the hour be- 
ing then late, Doctor Price said to Gertrude, “ Mrs. 
Everson, I will take you home, if you will allow 
me. It is very late, and I think you ought not to 
stay longer.” 

She hesitated. “ I will gladly stay, if I can do 
anything,” she said, but the parents gratefully 
refused, appreciating all that she had already 
done. 

“ It would scarcely be wise in you to remain up 
longer, Mrs. Everson,” said Doctor Gregory. 
“ You do not look altogether well and strong. I 
will stay, and your kind help will really not be 
longer needed.” 

She flushed painfully under his kind, scrutinizing 
glance, and without saying more began to put on 
her wraps. 

“ You are staying at the hotel ? ” said the clergy- 
man inquiringly, as they started out together. 

“ Yes, sir.” 


Whose Fault f 275 

Her lips refused to utter another word; it 
seemed rude, yet what could she say ? 

Doctor Price spoke quietly and pleasantly of the 
sorrowing parents whom she had comforted by her 
kindness. Then with another effort, he said, “ I 
think I saw you at service on Sunday morning, 
Mrs. Everson. Did I not ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I was there — during part of the ser- 
vice.” 

I They were nearing the hotel ; he could not let 
her go, in that way ! She had not spoken once 
of her husband. She seemed greatly depressed, 
and what was she doing there at that bleak time 
of year alone and unhappy ? Yes, he felt sure she 
was unhappy ! He must make one more effort — 
she was so young, such a mere girl, and he longed 
to help her, whatever was her trouble ! 

“ It is dull and lonely here at this time of year, 
Mrs. Everson; I fear you will find it so; may not 
an old man come in to see you and chat away an 
hour sometime ? ” 

She could not be ungracious, and to a clergy- 
man. 

“ Thank you, Doctor Price; you are very kind; I 
— I knew I should be lonely when I came here; I 
don’t think I shall mind it, but I shall be glad to 
see you when you have time to call.” 


276 


Whose Fault f 


It was not a very warm invitation, but he was 
not thinking of himself, he was thinking of her 
good. 

Poor young creature, where had gone that sweet 
glad light from her face which he remembered so 
well, and that merry, girlish, rippling laugh ? 

God help him to be discreet, he prayed, as he 
held her hand at parting and looked full into her 
sad eyes. 


XXX. 


A HAGGARD, wild-eyed man stood before 
^ Mr. Stewart Yates in his private office ; 
there was a fierceness in the voice and in the man- 
ner which certainly were quite foreign to Elwood 
Everson’s natural disposition. Mr. Yates felt him- 
self to be in an unpleasant position ; his simple, 
generous heart, swelled with pity and sympathy, 
and the grasp of his hand was that of a true friend, 
though, alas, how powerless he felt himself to 
offer any least consolation. 

“My wife ! ” spake his visitor in harsh, strained 
tones, while he searched Stewart’s face with that 
heart-rending, beseeching gaze of his feverish eyes. 
“ Do you know where my wife is ? ” 

Not for one instant did Stewart Yates pause or 
hesitate. 

“Yes, Everson, I know where Gertrude is. She 
is safe and comfortable. I had no part nor lot in 
this matter, except simply to go with her where 
she chose to go ; and to see that everything was 

277 


278 


Whose Fault? 


arranged for her comfort and health. I acknowl- 
edge frankly to you that I had far rather have 
borne almost any pain myself than to have done 
this thing for Gertrude ! ” 

“Why, then, in pity’s name, did you do what 
you so objected to ? ” cried the distracted husband, 
sinking, from sheer trembling, into the chair which 
he had at first refused. 

“Because if I had not, she would have gone 
away alone,” he replied, in low, gentle tones, as 
showing how it hurt him to give that pain to the 
questioning husband. 

Elwood Everson leaned his head upon his hands 
a moment, then without raising it again said 
hoarsely, “ Tell me all you know, please; all ! ” 

His friend did so, striving to set it in the best 
possible light and to show what hope and comfort 
he honestly could. He might not name the place 
where Gertrude had gone, having been con- 
strained to promise secrecy, yet it seemed to him 
not a difficult thing for Mr. Everson to find out for 
himself. 

Every word which he uttered had the ring of a 
true, friendly spirit, and Elwood Everson, in the 
midst of his terrible pain and grief, recognized this 
and was grateful for it. The brother-in-law might 
have said hard things ; he might have recalled the 


Whose Fault? 


279 


fact that Gertrude Preston was a happy, trusting 
girl, when he had given her to Mr. Everson ; that 
she had never known a trouble or a care ; that 
no one had ever found faults in her, but that she 
had lived in an atmosphere of love and good- 
will ; he might have found occasion to cen- 
sure this husband, might even have taunted him 
with the thought of the flown bird whose nest had 
been too unpleasant, too narrow for her large, glad 
nature ! 

All this and more he might have done, had he 
been — well, perhaps like most men; but he was 
not, and Elwood Everson was very thankful. It 
was, in truth, an extremely delicate part which 
Stewart Yates had to undertake that morning. 
Gertrude was dear to him — so dear that he sor- 
rowed greatly and felt deeply hurt by this step 
which she had just taken, and thought that she had 
been quite wrong in so doing. Yet he could not 
cast any reproach upon her in the presence of this 
other man who loved her, who had a husband’s 
most complete right. No, he simply could not 
speak at all of Gertrude’s action as worthy either 
of censure or approval, but he could, and did, show 
all sympathy towards the other; and a cordial 
appreciation of his peculiar trial. Not one word 
of anything like advice did he offer, and yet Mr. 


28 o 


Whose Fault? 


Everson was conscious of no lack of warm interest 
and friendship. His suggestion that Gertrude’s 
present abiding-place would not be difficult for 
her husband to discover was the nearest approach 
to any counsel which occurred in all Mr. Yates’ 
talk, that morning. He told Everson that his 
wife, Sylvie, received a communication daily from 
her sister, pretending not to notice the flush which 
crossed the husband’s face at this information nor 
his half-suppressed groan of anguish. 

When all that could be said was spoken, Mr. 
Everson sat in silent thought for a few minutes. 
How deep his grief was, who can say ? Then, he 
arose, held out his hand with quiet dignity, and 
said, “ I thank you.” That was all. Stewart’s 
hand closed- on his with a cordial grasp. 

“ Come to me at any time, here, or at the house. 
Sylvie and I are your friends,” as simply as a 
school-boy would have said it, but it had all the 
fullness of a man’s strong deep feeling in it. Ever- 
son only bowed his head in acknowledgment; he 
could not speak ; surely his burden was greater 
than he could bear — save for that unseen help, 
which is mighty to out-balance every need. 

All that day Elwood Everson sat alone in his 
private room, and few ventured to disturb him, 
even upon important matters regarding the busi- 


Whose Fault? 


281 


ness. With his proud head bowed, he thought 
and thought, until all life seemed one great cloud, 
without a sun-touched path through its darkness. 
Would not some voice speak through the black- 
ness and tell him what to do ? 

As for human voices, after that first great 
general astonishment and consternation, when 
each one had spoken according to the feeling 
which most moved her, no tone had dared to break 
the awful silence in which the suffering husband 
had shut himself — not the dearest sister of them 
all, not the gentle and revered mother, vent- 
ured to utter one word. The hand of a rebuking 
Father was over that household, and its shadow 
chilled every heart. To bow with reverent sor- 
row, acknowledging their mistake, would alone 
bring them to a realization of that infinite love 
behind the cloud which chastened those whom it 
most cherished. 

“ Mother, mother! what shall we do ? I fear 
for Elwood’s reason! He surely cannot live so ! 
He does not eat, and he does not sleep! I hear 
him pacing up and down all night. Whenever I 
wake, his step is still there, heavy and slow; he 
used not to be so regardless of those about him.” 

“ You may make up your mind that Elwood will 
never again be the same regardful brother to us. 


202 


Whose Fault f 


How can he ? Have we not driven away that 
which was part of his life, that which was dearest 
of all the world to him ? ” 

“ Driven away! Rica, how you talk! ” 

“Well, Jessie, I only say what I believe to be 
true. It is sad enough, to make me wish it were 
otherwise, and I believe Wood thinks just as I do, 
but he is too kind, ever to say it in so many bitter 
words, as other brothers would. He will only 
quietly grow away from us day by day, further and 
further. Oh my brother, my only brother! ” cried 
the girl, bursting into a passion of tears. 

Mrs. Richards bent over her, whispering, “ Rica, 
have a care! Do you want to kill our mother ?” 
for Mrs. Everson had grown deathly white as she 
leaned back in her chair, and no tears came to her 
relief. But she had greater strength than her 
daughter supposed. When she spoke, in a mo- 
ment, it was in a calm voice, though sad beyond 
expression — 

“ My children, I think Rica is right in feeling 
that we have all had our own share in driving Ger- 
trude to this foolish step. Let us each try to be 
willing to bear our portion of the censure, as we 
must bear our part in the sorrow.” 

“ What shall we do, mother dear ? Can we do 
nothing to help poor Wood in this time of 


Whose Fault ? 


283 


trouble ? ” asked Grace, almost impatiently. It 
harassed her, to sit still and bear quietly this 
calamity! It hurt her pride that such a thing as 
this should have come to their family. Indeed if, 
as Rica said, they each had a share in bring- 
ing about this sad state of affairs, certainly each 
one had a very evident part in this wounded pride, 
which was a hard trial for the high Everson spirit. 

“ The punishment is far heavier than the sin,” 
exclaimed Jessie to herself, as she pondered her 
mother’s words. 

“ We can only be patient, my child,” answered 
the mother to Grace, “ and think wherein we have 
failed. At present we can do nothing for Elwood, 
except to bear with his moods, and endeavor to 
lighten, if possible, his burden, studying mean- 
while what our life must be, should his wife ever 
return to us.” 

“She never will!” exclaimed Rica, in a low 
positive tone, and when taken to task for the 
words, she explained, “ Well, I never would, if I 
had been in the same position, and had been 
treated as we have treated Gertrude! ” 

“ I notice, Rica, that you never except yourself, 
in blaming the family for Gertrude’s action, per- 
haps, indeed, you even include Wood himself, in 
your censure.” 


284 


Whose Fault? 


“ Well, I certainly do wish that Wood had done 
differently — in this way, to have been less easy and 
thoughtful toward us, and to have insisted more 
upon our leaving his wife to follow her own in- 
clinations. I can see now why he oftentimes 
remained quiet, just out of kindness and respect 
to his sisters when he ought to have spoken. He 
just bore the whole burden of both sides, poor 
fellow, and hoped for the best, and he has received 
the worst.” 

“ What I was going to ask was — since you see 
it all so clearly — in what way we could and ought 
to have done differently with regard to Elwood’s 
wife ? ” 

Rica looked thoughtful, and was half inclined to 
appeal to her mother, who she felt to be on her 
side, but the sorrowful white face forbade her. 

“ It is about as difficult a thing to tell, Grace, as 
it would be to define just how a large family should 
live so as to have peace and harmony always. It 
was the little things which we might have done or 
left undone — the letting alone. We might'have 
kept our Church ideas and likings more to our- 
selves, and let Gertrude follow as she learned to 
see the beauty of it all. We ought never to have 
nagged at her about attending service, nor about 
asking Wood to do what we considered wrong. He 


Whose Fault? 


285 


could have settled those things. If we had lived 
out in our lives the beautiful Churchly teachings, 
Gertrude would have seen far more to admire and 
love than she ever did through all our preaching 
and self-righteous fault-finding.” 

She kept herself so prominently in it all, and it 
was all so thoroughly true, that no one could deny 
or object. 

These conversations were simply reliefs to the 
over- burdened hearts in the household. They 
wrought out no plans for changing the state of 
things; none for the comfort or help of the almost 
heart-broken husband. He bore his pain silently 
and alone; night after night he would unfold that 
letter which Gertrude had left upon his desk, and 
read it over, until indeed the need for opening it 
no longer existed, for he knew it by heart. Still, 
mechanically he sat and looked at it, with bowed 
head and heavy eyes. No, there was no en- 
couragement to seek her out; very distinctly, 
though affectionately, had she said he must not 
come to her, for she would not see him until he 
had made fair trial of her absence and perchance 
found that happiness again which she had taken 
from his life. “ She had never intended to be so 
cruel. He must try to forgive her, if he could,” 
and so on. 


286 


Whose Fault ? 


“ Oh, my little wife! my poor darling! ” he would 
cry, with his head bowed over the much-worn let- 
ter, and a longing in his heart which was like a 
physical pain. 

How could he bear it? How much longer would 
it be? Would it ever end? Had it not been for 
these nights of relaxing, these hours when, all 
alone, he could give vent to his grief, he could not 
indeed have borne up as long as he did. The gray 
began to show upon his temples, and deep lines to 
mark his fine handsome face. 

But no! though long ere this he had suspected 
just where she was living, he could not go to her; 
not yet. Had she any longing for him? he won- 
dered. Ah, would she not cry out to him if her 
heart ached as did his? Would she not say that 
“Come!” which he would hear before the slow 
telegraph could bring it, and which he would make 
speed to answer? But she did not say it. 


XXXI. 


T T AD he seen her, he would have known how 
deeply her heart was moved, what pain and 
grief she was suffering. Dr. Price saw it and he 
said to his wife, “You must go to the child, 
mother. She needs you now far more than she 
needs me; she will open her heart to one of her own 
sex; the poor girl has no mother! ” 

Gentle Mrs. Price — to whom God, in His wisdom, 
had denied the blessing of motherhood, perhaps, 
indeed, that she might have larger liberty to mother 
these needy ones in her husband’s flock — hastened 
to obey the summons. 

She found Mrs. Everson half sick, lying listlessly 
back in a great chair; a hot stove directly in front 
of her, yet she herself shivering and pale. 

“I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Price; I was 
feeling dreadfully lonely and — sad! ” 

“Of course, dear child; it could not be other- 
wise. You are not in your right place, you 
know.” 


287 


2 88 


Whose Fault ? 


So gently spoken, with that kind touch of the 
soft old hand upon her bright hair! Gertrude 
thought of her own mother in Paradise. Was she 
glad that her child had one like this to comfort 
and guide her? Was it a voice from that blessed 
abode, from the mother who waited there, which 
bade her tell all her troubled story to this wise 
and gentle clergyman’s wife? 

Gertrude obeyed the voice. With bowed head 
and burning cheeks, she told it, and oh, what a re- 
lief it was that this motherly, experienced heart 
should know all her grief, that now at last she 
might hope for some word of counsel and hope, 
possibly even of good cheer. She was ready to 
hear herself condemned: willing to bear her own 
share of the censure, since she knew she had not 
been wholly free from wrong. 

Mrs. Price took the small, cold hands in her soft, 
warm clasp. 

“You are like a dear child to me,” she said, in 
her pleasant way. “ I don’t want you to feel so 
lonely again. I am going to ask a favor of you. 
Will you come and stay with me the rest of the 
time you spend here? I have a bright little room, 
opening from my sewing room, where I so often 
wish for some one to be. Let me have you there 
for a while; and we shall have some long talks to- 


Whose Fault ? 289 

gether, which will help to clear away the clouds, 
I am sure.” 

It seemed too good to be true — too good to 
come to one who had gone astray so. Gertrude 
accepted it very humbly, very gratefully ; she 
felt as if she had known Mrs. Price all her 
life. 

But while she was putting her things together, 
and Mrs. Price was explaining to the landlady, 
a sudden cloud came across the young wife’s 
brightening landscape. This was a clergyman of 
the Church into whose family she was going! 
Would she have all those same troubles to en- 
counter there? Would they expect her to keep 
all the fasts and to attend all the services, 
“just as if she were acquainted with all those 
saints? ” 

She shuddered as a remembrance came back to 
her of the old difficulties and misunderstandings 
and trials. 

“Will they insist on my liking the Church, I 
wonder? If they do, I shall” — hate it! her wicked 
spirit suggested; but the better angel prevailed, 
and she added, with a sigh — “Well, I will 
try.” 

Everything was made quite right with the 
wondering Mr. Parsons and his wife, and an hour 


290 


Whose Fault? 


later one of their queer rattling conveyances was 
carrying Gertrude’s trunk to the rectory, while she 
and Mrs. Price walked leisurely on together, talk- 
ing of nothing more serious than the growing 
spring-time, the early birds which flitted hope- 
fully about on the bare branches, and the grass in 
the sheltered nooks, which was beginning to show 
traces of color. 

Wise woman, Mrs. Price, who knew how to 
“ bide her time,” not allowing impatience or curios- 
ity to mar the good work she was appointed to 
do! 

The doctor was not at home, when the ladies 
arrived. When he returned, they were seated to- 
gether, each with a bit of work, in the pretty par- 
lor adjoining his study. His face lighted up, at 
the sight. 

“ Wise and wonderful woman, you have accom- 
plished that which I most desired ! Mrs. Everson, 
I am greatly pleased to welcome you to our quiet 
home ! ” 

He took her hand with a cordial grasp which 
enforced the truth of his words. 

“ I thought you were not looking well, and I 
was wondering how we could make your stay at 

H more pleasant for you. I see that Mrs. Price 

has found the right thing. Mother, how should I 


Whose Fault f 


291 


manage without your wise help to smooth my 
blundering ways ? d ” 

His easy, informal talk made Gertrude feel quite 
comfortable. So she was established for the pres- 
ent as an inmate of Doctor Price’s little home — as 
bright, as refined, as happy a home, as any one 
need wish to enter; for the peace of God dwelt 
there, and there His will was the rule and guide 
of each day. It was the best of all things which 
at that time could have been given to Gertrude 
Everson; it was the beginning of a new life and 
thought to her. She soon found that she need not 
fear any “insisting” nor any persuasion regarding 
the services or ways of the Church. 

It was the early part of Lent; there were daily 
services — one or two — in St. John’s Church, of which 
Doctor Price was the rector. Mrs. Price always 
went. 

The first morning after Gertrude’s arrival in her 
home, the clergyman’s wife said to her, “ My dear, 
this is your home for the present. I want you to 
feel and to do exactly as you would in your own 
home. I am not going to trouble you each day by 
asking you to come to Church with me; I want 
you to know, dear, that I shall be glad of your 
going whenever you wish to do so. Let there be 
no formality between us any more than between 


292 


Whose Fault? 


mother and daughter. Do what you love to do, as 
I do. Is this a compact between you and me ? ” 
she ended, smiling and bending to kiss the girl’s 
pale cheek. 

“ Yes, and thank you more than I can say, my 
dear friend.” 

It was all that Gertrude had power to utter just 
then; her heart was full and tears sprang to her 
eyes. 

There were Prayer Books in every room at the 
rectory, and just at that season many an attractive 
looking little volume with readings and teachings 
for Lent. There they lay, and any one who chose 
might open and read; no one was urged to do so, 
and certainly no one was treated as unworthy 
because they did not so. 

Gertrude felt as if she had entered into a sort of 
chamber of freedom; and yet, somehow, it was a 
chamber of peace, and an entrance-court to the 
Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Sometimes the clergyman and his wife would 
discuss a question brought forward by the season 
or the services; it was always pleasant and inter- 
esting to hear them. 

Occasionally, though rarely since Gertrude’s 
coming, Mrs. Price would say, “ Roland, won’t 
you read this little poem aloud to us, if Mrs. Ever- 


Whose Fault? 


293 


son doesn’t mind ? I always get the meaning 
more clearly when you read.” 

And his reading of any poem was well worth 
listening to. Gertrude learned, soon, to take her 
own favorites to him, in his leisure moments, as 
well as to be glad when his wife took hers. 

If it were the rector’s “lectures” which first 
induced her to attend the services in which they 
were given, it was not very long before she began 
to care for all the services, even the short one of 
simple Evening Prayer at the sweet sunset hour. 
Her heart grew less bitter at these times; she did 
not realize what was helping her, what was chang- 
ing her; she only knew that she felt a peace dawning 
through her great grief — a peace that was like the 
glimmer of a far-off possible sunlight. Her heart 
still ached and longed — oh, how sadly ! — for her 
husband; none could tell how great the longing 
was ; yet what should she do ? She could not 
yet feel herself ready to go back to the old life, 
the old way of trouble and misunderstanding. 
She almost wished that she had not so sternly 
forbidden Elwood to seek her out. Could she 
bear this separation longer, and how was he 
bearing it ? 

She had spoken freely with Mrs. Price, and re- 
ceived much comforting and wise counsel from that 


294 


Whose Fault? 


good lady; yet the clergyman’s wife was sorely 
perplexed to know all that she ought to say to 
this young creature, whose path had so early found 
the thorns and dark windings. 

“ Perhaps the Lord has sent her here to us that 
we may teach her the value of His Church. We 
are outsiders; not like those of her husband’s fam- 
ily, who have a personal interest in the matter; 
she will more readily take and learn from us, if we 
ask for wisdom to speak and act in the best way. 
I cannot see any other duty clear before us. She 
herself knows best how she needs her husband; she 
evidently pines for him hourly; none can see her 
and not realize that. Let us just take the present 
plain duty, and employ this opportunity which 
seems to be given us, but we must be wise and 
careful, mother; I need not say this to you ! ” 

“ Yes, Roland ; I see plainly that Mrs. Everson 
must be led gently,” not driven — not even per- 
suaded ; she has been urged too much ; things 
have become distasteful to her for that reason. It 
seems to me an error which devout and devoted 
Church people are too apt to commit.” 

Thus they talked and planned together, these 
two who desired to do the Master’s will and into 
whose hands God had committed so great a 
charge. 


Whose Fault ? 


295 

For Mrs. Everson, she never realized that those 
good friends had any strong desire to bring her to 
love the Church ; she saw in all their actions and 
words only a generous and friendly sympathy, a 
Christian kindness which was exceedingly pleasant 
to her at this dark hour of her suffering and loneli- 
ness. 

In her daily letters to Sylvie she gave accounts 
of their goodness to her and of her quiet life with 
them which set her sister’s loving and anxious 
heart at rest. Stewart also expressed himself as 
greatly relieved at knowing that Trudie was away 
from “ that dismal little hotel.” 

“ She’ll be all right now,” he said, with such an 
air of confidence and cheerfulness that his wife 
took courage from it, and felt happier than she had 
since Gertrude went away. 

At first Gertrude had written, in the bitterness 
of her spirit, “ There is no one here to torment me 
or to preach at me, about ‘ the Church ’ — * the 
Church ! ’ If I so choose, I may go to that same 
Church, and sing and pray and listen to a sermon, 
and not be marked as a heretic when I come out 
because I don’t believe in a Saint Jacobus, or 
Saint Somebody else, whose ‘ day ’ comes in the 
middle of the next week. Nobody teases me to 
study the Prayer Book, nor to ‘ fast ’ from innocent 


296 


Whose Fault? 


pastimes, nor to fasten my belief to ‘ Apostolic 
orders ! ’ No, I am a free woman ; I can live my 
own life, and breathe my own air of heaven, 
though I do not know the ‘ Fathers of the Church,’ 
and all they wrote and said.” 

Then gradually this contemptuous tone died out, 
and a simple sadness breathed through all her 
letters — no sarcasms, no biting references nor 
comparisons, no angry spirit. How the good 
Sylvie rejoiced at that ! And now the best of 
all had come, as her letters, so changed in 
tone, bore witness ; for she was living in close 
companionship with the pure and good, who also 
loved her and understood what her best interests 
were. 

Stewart and Sylvie Yates spoke together often, 
and with serious consideration, in regard to show- 
ing — or offering to show — Gertrude’s letters to her 
husband ; it was a question difficult to decide ; in 
the first place, they scarcely ever saw Mr. Everson; 
he never came to either of them after that first and 
only call at Stewart’s office;, if they casually met 
him, either alone or in company with his mother 
or sisters, he never asked any questions ; he bore 
his pain alone, and in a dignified silence that asked 
for neither pity or sympathy. 

Rica was the only one of the sisters who ever 


Whose Fault f 


297 


went to Sylvie’s house. She was Gertrude’s stead- 
fast friend still, and mourned truly with the only 
sister. She read Gertrude’s letters with eagerness; 
but did. not counsel Sylvie to offer them to El- 
wood ; she told them how her brother was living 
away from them, in his sorrow, asking for no sym- 
pathy, for no comfort or companionship ; he never 
mentioned his wife’s name, but the grief was 
wearing upon him, sadly, surely. Yes, they too 
could see that in the few casual meetings they had 
with him. It was very hard ! 

“Yet what can I do? Oh, what can* I do?” 
Sylvie exclaimed, again and again. “ If only some 
other home, some other way of living could be 
adopted ! I would gladly ask them to make their 
home here with us, if it would be of any use to 
do so.” 

“ Certainly ; so would I ; but what would be the 
gain of that ? Everson is perfectly able to main- 
tain Trude in a comfortable home ; and perhaps he 
would have a separate home, if she came back to 
him ; there is no real need of his living on there ; 
his mother doesn’t need him ! ” 

“ No ; I think when they were married Trudie 
rather liked the arrangement ; she had been like 
one of them for so long; but it was a mistake.” 

“ Poor little Trudie ! I wish she would write to 


298 


Whose Fault ? 


him, and see if things couldn’t be straightened 
out.” 

But Gertrude had yet this page of her life-lesson 
to learn ; and the time was not yet come for the 
kind offices of these good friends. 


XXXII. 


IV/TRS. EVERSON had passed a strange day, 
A the only day of any real incident to her since 

her going to H . She had gone out for an early 

walk in the fresh spring air ; the morning actually 
had a touch of spring softness and beauty. 

It was time ; March was nearing its end, the 
long, tedious month which oft-times wearies the 
heart with its grasp of wintry chill and barrenness; 
the dull fetters were beginning to yield at last 
beneath the brightening rays of the sun ; the birds 
had found it out long before, but human hearts are 
apt to be more faithless than robins and blue-birds. 
We need a bit of sight to help our feeble faith — a 
spear or two of tender green; a tiny young leaf, no 
matter how far down, or hidden among the dead 
brown ones — something for a visible, tangible 
token, and then we are glad.” 

Could this young wife be glad, as she wandered 
on, seeing here and there a sign, and hearing the 

299 


300 


Whose Fault? 


voices of the busy robins? Alas, no; what to her 
now were all the beauties of a season in which she 
once had delight ? 

What were they doing and saying, those merry, 
busy robins ? Building nests, and calling mate to 
mate! Happy creatures! “Ah! did not one call 
to me once, in the glad new spring-time a year 
ago — only one little year! Did he not call with the 
tender voice of love? and was I not glad to answer, 
and to go to the home nest with him? Ah me, 
could it all have been a mistake? I spoiled his life; 
I could not make him happy? I was the wrong 
one, they said! ” 

She mused on in this way, walking along the 
hedges where the twittering birds took courage 
from her gentle movements, and did not interrupt 
their labors. The sun fell brightly upon her pale 
face, but did not warm it into any color. 

Presently, as she passed out from the fields into 
the narrow foot-path by the road-side, a quick, firm 
step startled her, and some one else, enjoying a 
morning walk drew near. Gertrude did not look 
up, but was passing quietly on her way, when a 
familiar voice spoke, astonished. 

“ Can it be possible — Mrs. Everson? Fair greet- 
ing to you this bright morning.” 

George Graeme held out his hand, and she 


Whose Fault? 


301 


placed hers in it with a joyful feeling, as if she 
were touching a link in that dear, happy past 
whose golden chain had dropped from her hold. 
She could only smile at first, a very trembling little 
smile, too, as if the tears lay not far back. She 
could say nothing to this man, who had come up 
to her from that far land of sunshine where her 
treasures were. He did the talking at first, rat- 
tling on like one perfectly willing to cover all such 
deficiency on her part, blundering and halting, 
making new beginnings, and leaving half-finished 
sentences. 

“ I knew that — that — you had gone — that you 
were away from home, Mrs. Everson; but I did not 
dream of meeting you here. How long have — I 
beg pardon! How are you? You do not look very 
robust.” 

“ Oh pretty well, thank you? ” she faltered. 

“ If I had only known I should meet you, I — ’ 

He had to begin again. “ I came up to H on 

business; a tedious law case, which has been 
tormenting me for a long time. By the way, how 
sad that was about poor De Lancey! I was away 
when it came out. I had been acting as his law- 
yer for a time, but the poor fellow’s affairs, were in 
a terrible condition.” 

“ What a shame, for a man with a wife and little 


302 


Whose Fault ? 


ones, and certainly he had a fair business; had he 
not?” 

Young Graeme looked at her, wonderingly. 
She had not been used to speaking so about her 
friends — about any one, in fact. Had she grown 
less generous and forgiving in her thoughts of 
people ? Her face had a look upon it which he 
had never seen there before. She felt his kind, 
searching glance, and blushed beneath it. 

For George Graeme, his heart grew tender, 
recalling the long past days; days when he had 
kept very precious thoughts of this girl within the 
most sacred recesses of his being; and now he 
was wondering if he could not have made her more 
completely happy. 

“ Yes, De Lancey’s business was very fair, if he 
had let speculation alone. That was his tempta- 
tion, poor fellow! ” 

“ I am afraid I do not pity him as you men do. 
Why cannot a man be a man, and resist tempta- 
tion when he has everything to help him and to 
make his life beautiful! ” 

“Ah, Mrs. Everson, it is so easy to yield — to 
fall! We think we are strong, we feel proudly 
sure of it; then the hour of temptation comes, we 
fall, and only then begin to realize our weak- 


ness. 


Whose Fault? 


303 


He spoke so sadly, that she looked at him with 
amazement. 

“ Why, Mr. Graeme, you speak as if you knew 
about these things; I did not suppose that tempta- 
tions ever troubled you! ” 

“ Yes,” he replied slowly, drawing along breath, 
and looking upward at the clear morning sky, 
“yes, Mrs. Everson, I am sorely tempted to do 
wrong sometimes. Life is a battle, all the way 
through, but we will hope, through grace, to gain 
the victory,” he added, in his old, clear, ringing 
voice. 

She did not know how “ sorely tempted ” he was 
just there and then ! It was so pleasant to linger 
along in the fair spring morning with this old 
friend; to look into her sweet face again — just they 
two speaking together, with none to interfere ! So 
pleasant, and it brought back those old tender 
thoughts and hopes. Ah, that was the danger, 
and he knew it. Nay, he would not give that 
temptation another moment’s room to grow. 

With this resolve he stopped, saying frankly, 
“ It is very pleasant walking on so with you this 
bright morning, but I must get back to my work. 
Good-bye, Mrs. Everson; I am glad to have seen 
you. Can I do anything for you in the city? ” 

She hesitated, blushing painfully. 


3°4 


Whose Fault ? 


“ Yes, Mr. Graeme; you can do me a favor if you 
will; for reasons best known only to myself, I have 
chosen to keep my present abiding-place a secret. 
If you will, you can aid me in this matter.” 

“ It shall be, Mrs. Everson, as though I had 

never visited H he said in his manly, earnest 

way, and he meant even more than she knew. 

Gertrude turned toward the rectory, her face 
full of a deep feeling which had been stirred by this 
very unexpected meeting. 

As she drew near the house, the church bell 

N 

began to ring. On entering she found Mrs. Price 
returning from the kitchen, where she had been 
giving her orders, and fulfilling certain small daily 
duties. 

“ Why, Mrs. Price, what does the church bell 
mean? I thought you were just about through 
the Morning Service.” 

“Oh, do you not remember? The hour was 
changed for this morning. To-day is the Feast 
of the Annunciation; and we have full Morning 
Service at eleven o’clock, instead of our usual 
Daily Prayers.” 

A sudden wave of recollection swept over Ger- 
trude at the name of this Church festival. She 
had never forgotten it! It was ,50 linked with all 
sweet and pleasant memories! How well she 


Whose Fault? 


305 


could recall every word which Rica had said on 
that very feast day one year ago. She remem- 
bered Rica liked the old style of beginning the year 
upon that day; she remembered her speaking of 
Gabriel’s message to the Virgin. Ah yes, she had 
carried that thought with her, for long afterward — 
“ the power of the Highest overshadowing.” It 
had seemed so good and pleasant to her then, in 
that new joy which was just beginning to color her 
whole life; had seemed so to sanctify it and to 
make it greater and worthier. It was “ specially 
the woman’s day ” Rica had told her, quoting from 
Dr. Dorman; a day which all women, young or old 
could appreciate, kneeling with all the unsolved, 
vexing problems of their lives there at the Vir- 
gin’s side, praying with her that the power of the 
Highest might overshadow them. Yes, the very 
words, clear and distinct, as if re-uttered to her, 
came back — “ The things that are too hard for 
thee; the things that are above thy strength.” 

These words of that evening lesson from the 
Apocrypha, so strangely fitting in with the story 
of the lowly Virgin wondering “ how these 
things could be,” and bowing to accept humbly 
whatsoever was sent to her in that power of the 
Highest. 

Oh, how beautiful it all was, and how full of 


3°6 


Whose Fault? 


help for all women surely — “ And only one year 
ago — one little year.” 

It all passed in a few minutes, while she stood 
there with that strange light and shadow alternat- 
ing upon her young face and her hands tightly 
clasped. Mrs. Price saw it, wondering. 

At length Gertrude spoke and her voice had a 
mournful sweetness which touched the elder lady’s 
heart. 

“I think I would like to go to church with you 
this morning, Mrs. Price, if you will let me.” 

“ Let you, my dear ? Why I shall be very 
glad! ” 

“I will not keep you waiting; I shall be down in 
one minute.” 

She came with her own little Prayer Book in 
her hand, and a flickering color in her cheeks. 
Mrs. Price noticed the Prayer Book, for she had a 
pretty Prayer Book and Hymnal of her own ready 
for Gertrude. She laid this quietly aside, say- 
ing nothing, but feeling a deep thankfulness 
in her heart. Verily this thing had been “too 
hard ” for her, had not the loving Father Him- 
self undertaken where she had faltered and 
fainted. 

They went out into the fair spring sunlight to- 
gether, the two women whose youth and age each 


Whose Fault f 


30 7 


so needed that overshadowing Power — one whose 
whole life had been guided and blessed by it; one 
whose early path had brought thorns and stum- 
bling-places, where she was standing with out- 
stretched hands, only just now realizing how her 
strength lay in that Almighty Power. 

The birds sang, and seemed to sing with the 
voices of that glad day only a year ago; the sweet 
air, soft with the promise of the near April, 
breathed about the two women, and seemed to 
Gertrude to whisper glad refrains of that happy 
day only a year ago; the Church bells rang, and 
seemed to tell of that perfect unity of heart which 
had made all life and all holy things good and 
true to her, only a year ago! 

They did not speak much to each other, as they 
walked the short way between the rectory and the 
church; their hearts were full, their thoughts were 
busy — speech was not needed. 

They were early, and the hush of the sanctuary 
was very pleasant to Gertrude. Never before in 
her whole life had she so forgotten herself and all 
her surroundings in silent prayer. It was as if she 
knelt in the immediate presence of the kingly 
Father, under the overshadowing of His detaining 
hand. Her Amen was merged into the first low, 
trembling tones of the organ voluntary which it- 


3°8 


Whose Fault ? 


self was a “ We beseech Thee ” for those who 
could appreciate it; and Gertrude could. 

It was a feast day, yet the shadow of the holy 
fast subdued and chastened its joy. 

Doctor Price saw Gertrude by the side of his wife; 
he saw, too, the joy in his wife’s face. He did not 
speak the less warmly and earnestly for these two 
things. 

Gertrude listened to the story of the day with 
an awed and wondering spirit. This was the story 
of the mystery of the incarnation — a simple, ten- 
der, touching story, the beginning of the world’s 
redemption! 

Well-fitting was it indeed that all people should 
celebrate this day. She looked back, and in her 
heart thanked Rica for first telling her of it. Now 
she knew and realized for herself. Was it but the 
beginning of her full knowledge and realization? 
Yes, though she knew it not at the time. Who 
of us ever knows the time of God’s beginnings of 
good toward us ? 

The words of the Collect lingered long in Ger- 
trude’s mind; they gave her a strange realizing 
sense of how our lives must each follow on after 
the pattern of our Great Exemplar. Had she 
not told herself that life was only made up of “ the 
cross and the grave ” ? and here the Collect said, 


Whose Fault? 


309 


“ By His cross and passion we may be brought 
unto the glory of His resurrection.” Ah, that was 
the true, glad explanation, after all. It is the 
cross; but His cross; and oh, what a difference 
that makes! Our Lord’s own sanctified cross, 
lightened and consecrated by His passion for us! 
And if we bear it rightly — ah, but she was not 
bearing hers so! 

Then it was not so much the cross and the 
grave to think of as the cross and “ the glory of 
His resurrection.” 

Gertrude had been a nominal Christian for some 
years, but she had never so fully sat in the blessed 
light of redemption’s story as on that day when 
she first prayed the words of this Collect, follow- 
ing the rector’s voice, and realized how only “ by 
His cross and passion, we may be brought unto 
the glory of His resurrection ! ” 


XXXIII. 


HEY talked long together that evening, Mrs. 



Everson and her two faithful friends, after the 
rector’s work was ended. 

She told them of her meeting with her old friend 
George Graeme, that morning ; it had not occurred 
to her to speak of it before ; she had not been so 
moved in her heart by the encounter as poor 
young Graeme had ; it had simply stirred the mem- 
ories of those other things which were life itself to 
her. Where he had come from, and those whom 
he and she knew — thoughts of these stirred her far 
more than just George Graeme’s presence or any- 
thing which in the past he might have been to 


her. 


After leaving him that morning, such greater 
and more important things had come to her that 
she had almost forgotten the meeting. In the even- 
ing she spoke pleasantly of it, casually wonder- 
ing what “ law case ” it was which had brought 
Me. Graeme to H ; but she cared far more to 


Whose Fault? 


3*i 

speak of other things even then. Her heart was 
full of a newly-kindled light. She felt a desire to 
know more ; she had never had any such strong, 
lasting feeling before, unless perhaps during those 

days of her first visit to H with Elwood. She 

recalled her thoughts of that time, and especially 
of the Sunday which they had spent there, but her 
heart had been so full of its own sweet joy then 
that she had not given fair place to all the ques- 
tioning. At home, again, all desire for knowledge 
had been burned out of her, by the too fiery zeal 
of her sisters-in-law. Now, in this still, peaceful 
refuge whither she had flown with her burden of 
grief and shame and disappointment, she felt an 
intense longing to learn more of the Church which 
was so dear a part of her husband’s life. If, as his 
mother had said, he should have married “ in the 
Church,” then she would like to see what such a 
thing would have been! The feeling, the wish, was 
so new, so recently born within her, that she scarcely 
understood it herself ; she was half awed by it. 

Starting from such a holy day — a day so full of 
wondrous revelation and inspiration, of lookings 
back and lookings forward — the desire must nat- 
urally have something of tender sentiment in it, 
but if it were responded to and guided to its end 
by Doctor Price and his wife all would be well. 


3 12 


Whose Fault ? 


“ If she only stays, if the Lord only lets her stay 
with us a little longer,” said the doctor, hopefully, 
when the evening’s talk was over. 

“ I think, Roland, the Lord, having sent her to 
us, will not interrupt His own work ; though to be 
sure it might be His will to let some one else fin- 
ish it,” she added a little sadly. 

“Paul, or Apollos, no matter, mother, only so 
the work is done,” said the clergyman ; adding, 
however, for human comfort, “ but I believe Mrs. 
Everson will stay here for a time yet ; for one 
thing, it would be quite detrimental to her 
health, if she returned to the city now, in the 
spring-time, the most trying season of all the 
year, just when any one needs the help of 
country breezes ; and this girl looks to me very 
frail. I declare, I have half a mind to write to 
Everson ! ” 

“ Oh no, my dear Roland ; never, unless she 
bids you do so ! ” 

He smiled at his wife’s half-frightened exclama- 
tion. 

“ No, I suppose that will not do. Well, mother, 
let us continue our work, with good hope ; and 
God will give the increase and take care of every- 
thing else.” 

Palm Sunday and Holy Week were the solemn 


Whose Fault? 


313 


occasions which next claimed Gertrude Everson’s 
newly-aroused interest. 

“ Surely,” she exclaimed, “ I never saw or heard 
aright before, or how could I have turned from 
any such things as these ? ” 

“ Perhaps the ground had to be prepared for the 
seed, my child,” said the old rector kindly, for he 
had come to regard Gertrude as a veritable child — 
as young in knowledge of the world as she was in 
years of life, and certainly a mere child in her un- 
derstanding of the Church ! 

He felt a surprise, a grieved surprise, as he dis- 
covered how little Elwood Everson had done to 
help and increase this understanding. Well as he 
knew the man, he did not know aught of that won- 
derfully tender restraint which his love had put 
upon all things, that this young wife might not be 
persuaded or urged by anything save by the in- 
clination of her affections. The man’s strong love 
had blinded him ; he could not see clearly and un- 
dazzled, as could Doctor Price, looking calmly from 
his wise stand-point. If Gertrude had ever gone 
to her husband with one of the eager questions 
which she was now daily putting to the old clergy- 
man, how eloquent would he have become in his 
joy of explanation. She had a few times said to 
him, “ I do begin to love your Church,” or had 


3H 


Whose Fault ? 


showed him how she felt the beauty of certain 
parts of the liturgy. But those things had been 
mere passing hopes, as fleeting as the sunshine of 
April. He had never received anything enduring 
or deep or thorough, in this matter, from the wife 
who stood, in other ways, so near to him. If he, 
in his love alone, would not persuade her, how 
much less did he find it right to do so when he 
discovered how persistent, how over-anxious were 
his sisters in their discussion of these things ! 

Both Doctor Price and his wife had noticed the 
bitterness of spirit which Mrs. Everson entertained 
toward her husband’s sisters, and they had experi- 
ence enough in their long service for the Master 
to understand the trouble, and to pause wisely to 
consider before venturing upon any effort towards 
remedying these things. 

“ It is an easier work, because there is nothing 
complex about it. We have only to teach Mrs. 
Everson the completeness, the all-sufficiency of 
the Church, and her love for it, which follows, will 
make right all that remains.” 

“ And perhaps we shall not have even that to 
do, for since Mrs. Everson has begun to attend the 
services, the Church will teach its own lessons to 
her in a great measure. Don’t you think so, Ro- 
land?” 


Whose Fault ? 3 1 5 

“ Yes, mother; your thought, as usual, goes a 
step beyond mine.” 

If it did so, he was always glad to yield the palm 
to this faithful help-meet, whose clear quick insight 
had done so much for him through the varying 
years of labor. 

“‘Perhaps the ground had to be prepared for 
the seed’ ! The ground ? That was her own stub- 
born, proud heart, which had refused to accept the 
good, because it had been in some fashion thrust 
upon her.” Ah, even then, as she began to see it 
all, the old impulse of indignant sarcasm came 
back to her. 

“ One doesn’t care to be rudely pushed into the 
sunlight even,” she said to herself, as she pondered 
the old rector’s words; but the growing glory soon 
over-swept all low clouds that hung lowering from 
the past.” 

More especially did the peace which passeth 
understanding begin to show itself unto her in that 
Holy Week — that wonderful, deeply-solemn week, 
wherein each day repeated that same story, in the 
words of the different evangelists, that one incom- 
parable story of Him who, “being in the form of 
God,” “ took upon Himself the form of a servant 
and the very likeness of man.” 

It was not a new story to her; she had been a 


Whose Fault? 


316 

Christian too long for that; but had any such daily- 
following of the Redeemer, in the last completing 
week of his sacrificial life, ever before brought her 
so close to His divine humanity ? Had He ever 
before been a Christ so near at hand, whose taking 
upon Him of the likeness of men made her troubles 
and pains His own, to bear with her ? 

She never could tell, in all her life afterwards, 
of just what nature the household life had been at 
the rectory during that Holy Week; whether they 
had fasted specially, or omitted any of the ordi- 
nary ways and duties; she could not remember 
that there had been any talk about it, at all 
events. She had gone on, with the world’s Re- 
deemer, so closely during these days that all 
other life seemed shut out, and dim to recall after- 
wards. She had not even realized how she was 
being led; that it was Christ’s Hand, through His 
Church, which held hers, and guided her along 
that consecrated way ! 

She did not come to herself, as it were, until all 
was over, until it was “ finished,” and the awful si- 
lence fell upon the sealed tomb. Presently, then, 
she seemed to find herself waiting there at the 
holy sepulchre, with the other women; and lo ! 
when the dawn-light came, “ the stone was rolled 
away,” and Gertrude Everson stood ready to sing, 


Whose Faitlt? 


317 

with the Holy Church throughout all the world, 
“ Christ is risen ! He is risen indeed ! ” 

She had gone to her little friends in the “ mill 
village,” before the last service of that Easter 
Even. 

“Would they go with her? Yes, indeed; they 
knew exactly where.” 

Gaining ready permission from proud mothers 
who loved the “ young master’s lady,” they went 
hurrying back to where they had left her waiting, 
so pale and still, each one carrying his pail or little 
basket. 

It was not a noisy party; yet the children were 
happy; and, oh, the fragrance of the abundant 
arbutus which peeped up at them from under the 
brown, dead leaves of the long winter, telling its 
own perfect story of the resurrection-time. The 
little ones softly hummed their Easter carols, cast- 
ing curious, shy glances up at the beautiful, quiet 
lady, but she did not hear them, to understand. 
She was waiting yet, with Mary. 

They carried their great perfumed offering to 
the Church, and massed it carefully in the font, to 
be arranged later. 

“ Who brought this ? ” asked the rector, in a 
low pleased voice, as he stood, after the last 
Easter Even service, with a few faithful ones 


3i8 


Whose Fault ? 


who were to “decorate” the sanctuary for the 
risen Lord. 

No one knew, until one little choir boy, half 
asleep, waiting for some one to take him home, 
looked up to say, “ We all went with the master’s 
lady up on the hills this afternoon to get it. She 
asked us to go with her, and we brought it here.” 

Mrs. Everson waited alone in the rector’s pew, 
with her Prayer Book open in her hands, and her 
head bent over it. Doctor Price went and sat by 
her. She glanced up, as he spoke, with that 
strange, expectant look upon her face, and he al- 
most hesitated to break that waiting silence. 

“ The arbutus, Mrs. Everson ! It is so very 
beautiful and appropriate — that which I prize be- 
yond any hothouse rarity; I thank you for your 
thoughtfulness.” 

“ It is only my little offering,” she said simply, 
and he went away to the others, and left her there 
— waiting. 


XXXIV. 


A FTER that early service on Easter morning, 
the world began to appear a different place 
to Gertrude Everson. 

She had surprised the rector and his wife by 
meeting them, as they came out of their room, in 
the still dawn-light. 

“ May I go,” she asked the clergyman in a low 
voice, while his wife stepped to the dining-room 
to speak to the servant, “ to the Holy Commun- 
ion ? I believe I am really ‘ in love and charity ’ 
with all the world ! ” 

The quick tears started as she spoke. 

“Yes, my child, yes; and I am very glad. We 
will go and meet out risen Lord together.” 

They went, without a word, after their Easter 
greeting of one another, the three together, on 
through that sweet, fresh, Easter dawn, with 
carolling birds on every side, and only the Church 
bell to mingle its call with their notes of praise. 

As she knelt for the first time since her coming 

319 


320 


Whose Fault? 


to H , to partake of those “ holy mysteries,” in 

remembrance of a Saviour’s deathless love, the one 
earthly thought, too much a part of herself to be 
shut out, was the longing for her husband to kneel 
by her side, but the heavenly love was so great 
that all lesser loves soon sank from thought 
beneath its power. 

So that Easter Day began, and the new under- 
standing which for Gertrude Everson dawned with 
it seemed like a bow of promise, encircling her 
whole life, its pure white resolved into many fair 
colors to gladden and illumine her days; and then, 
while this young wife was carefully and seriously 
searching her inmost heart, to find if indeed all 
was there so pure, so peaceable, and of such good 
intent that she could go back to the old home and 
fear no trouble, there were set, suddenly, limits to 
her plans by a Father’s wise decree. 

She was far from well, that was quite evident to 
the good rector and his wife, but she seemed 
cheerful and hopeful, and when they spoke of her 
want of appetite and her paleness, she made 
answer, “ I will go about more now, and get such 
an appetite that it will astonish you; I have walked 
scarcely any since coming here, but my ramble 
with the children on Easter Even has aroused my 
old love of such things.” 


Whose Fault ? 


321 


The weather was growing very delightful, and 
Gertrude promised herself to begin her “ health 
walks ” the very next day. They must be short, 
at first, she acknowledged to herself, for she felt 
weak and trembling. The yearning for her hus- 
band had come upon her with terrible intensity 
during the last few days, and she began to say to 
herself, “ It must be soon; I want him so! ” 

Then she wondered if his love had turned 
from her, if he were indeed content and “ happier” 
without her, and the thought was dreadful to 
her. 

That evening, when Doctor Price went home, 
after a visit to the “ mill village,” his face wore a 
look of anxiety. His wife noticed it instantly, and 
going toward him, she said, “ What is it, Roland? 
Is any one ill, or dying, or — ” she stopped abrupt- 
ly, at a warning look from his eyes. 

Gertrude, who sat reading near the window, 
sprang up at the abrupt pause, her face perfectly 
colorless and gasped, “ Is it — my — husband ? ” 

“ No, dear child, no,” reiterated the old clergy- 
man, putting his arm about her, and seating her in 
an arm-chair, for she was almost fainting. 

Then he knew that anything which he had to 
tell would be better for her to hear than leaving 
her to imagine worse evils. 


322 


Whose Fault? 


“ Now,” he said, with an attempt at gayety, “ if 
you two ladies will please not to get excited or 
alarmed, or any of those unnecessary things, I 
will tell you the simple truth. Nothing alarming, 
I assure you ! It is only a little trouble at the 
mills.” 

“Oh!” broke in the young wife of the mill- 
owner; then, with a strong effort, she controlled 
herself, and said no more, listening, however, with 
bated breath. 

“ Hopson had secured a new hand, it seems, 
some time ago — one whom he thought a good 
workman, but it seems that the fellow had got 
into trouble at his last place — I forget where — 
and was involved with his master, who had failed. 
After the lawyer had been here to see him (your 
friend Mr. Graeme, by the way, Mrs. Everson) and 
he had been away giving his evidence in the case, 
he became so unmanageable that Hopson grew 
vexed and puzzled. The fellow had urged Hop- 
son to take in two or three other new hands at a 
specially busy time, and now when he was re- 
proved for his behavior, he grew sulky and made 
these new hands troublesome too. The thing has 
been brewing, and growing worse for a week or so 
back; and now, suddenly, threats are freely 
uttered which make it seem a pretty serious mat- 


Whose Fault? 


323 


ter; but we will hope it will all blow over. There 
has never been trouble at the mills, and Hopson is 
a cool-headed, sensible, trusty man.” 

Gertrude could scarcely wait until he had finished 
his last word; her eyes were like stars on a frosty 
night, her cheeks were a vivid red, and her lips 
trembled so that she could scarcely utter the 
words, “ Has he sent for my husband ? ” 

“ It was a plain question, and there was no 
evading it without making matters worse. 

“ I believe that Hopson has done so, or intends 
to,” he replied quietly, as if there were nothing in 
the fact to cause anxiety. 

“ Let us have a cup of tea now, and then we can 
talk it over more calmly. You are tired, Roland; 
I saw that, as soon as you came in, which made 
me speak so quickly.” 

She rang the bell, and the hot tea was brought 
in. 

Gertrude had a faint turn when she arose to go to 
the table; so Mrs. Price made her lie back in the 
great chair, and brought her a cup of tea with her 
own hands. She was grateful and tried to swallow 
it. She looked up, with those glittering tearless 
eyes, and tried to frame a question. 

“ What is it, dear ? ” asked the gentle motherly 
voice. 


324 


Whose Fault ? 


“Ask the doctor if— that man — Aleck Jones is 
— is — with the wrong side.” 

The doctor, heard the question, and went to her 
to reply. 

“ Never fear for Jones, dear Mrs. Everson! He 
is a right loyal fellow, and loves — well, you, at any 
rate,” with a cheery smile. “ Oh no, Jones is all 
right ; I never knew a man more changed than 
he in a few months.” 

As they sat down again, a slight noise was 
heard outside, then a heavy footstep, and a ring at 
the door-bell 

Gertrude trembled visibly, but the others, put- 
ting strong control upon themselves, sat still and 
continued their meal. Presently the servant en- 
tered, and called the doctor. 

He had scarcely begun to speak, outside the 
door, when the other voice, answering him hastily 
fell upon Gertrude s quick ear. She started to her 
feet, and went to the door. 

“ Aleck ! Aleck Jones ! ” she cried, calling the 
man by his familiar name in her agitation, “take 
care of my husband! Do not let them harm him, 
will you ? ” 

The big, awkward man made a step towards her, 
hat in hand, and with a rough voice full of emotion 
answered: 


Whose Fault? 


325 


“ As sure as there is a God who heard the 
prayer you said by my sick bed one day, so sure 
will I stand by your husband ma’am, and defend 
him with my last breath. He shall not come to 
harm while I live.” 

He bent his great shaggy head, and touched her 
hand with his lips. 

But the effort had been too great for her over- 
strained nerves; she staggered forward, and Aleck 
Jones, catching her in his strong, steady arms, 
bore her — following Mrs. Price — to her room, and 
placed her gently upon the bed. Blessed uncon- 
sciousness came upon her, and lingered during the 
following days of storm and danger. 

And so it came to pass that Elwood Everson 
did receive a telegram, which said to him “ Come,” 
but it was not his wife’s “ come.” 

Through all the strange, sudden journey, while 
the train rushed rapidly on, bearing him to the 
scene of disorder and rebellion, his thoughts dwelt 
persistently on the one idea which he had con- 
ceived — that his wife was there at H — — , and that 
he was going to her. It was his own conceit; no 
one had hinted at such a thing; no word, no line 
of writing, had come from any interested or curi- 
ous person to tell him the truth. 

As he drew near the end of his journey, he 


3 2 6 


Whose Fault? 


roused himself with an effort to fix his mind upon 
that trouble of which he had been warned, and 
which possibly meant danger, loss, injury to prop- 
erty and to his business. 

Doctor Price was at the little depot, with his own 
horse and carriage, to meet Everson. 

“Hopson could not leave, and he needs all his 
force,” he began to explain to the mill-owner. 

Strangely enough, his friend did not make any 
reply to the information, but turned an eager, 
worn face to his, and asked, in low tones of sup- 
pressed feeling, “ Doctor, is my wife here in this 
place ? ” 

Again was this simple truthful man compelled 
to make answer according to his wisdom, direct 
and plain. 

“ Yes, Everson, your wife is at my house, ill, but 
well taken care of. Mrs. Price and Doctor Grego- 
ry are with her; one all the time, and the other — 
well, more often than is at all necessary; but he 
has a very kind feeling towards Mrs. Everson as 
indeed we all have.” 

He saw the working of the strong features, the 
quivering lips, which had no power to frame an- 
other question, and he went on, in his quiet sym- 
pathetic way, making all clear to the listener at 
his side. 


Whose Fault ? 


327 


“ She was somewhat * run down,’ and the spring 
weather, you know, and then this leaked out; we 
could not keep it from her; and she just gave up, 
and Gregory has her in his care. As gentle as a 
father is Gregory; so don’t worry a particle, Ever- 
son, but trust your wife to God’s gracious care, and 
put your mind upon this bad business at the mill.” 

In truth, he was compelled to do so, all day and 
all through that night. 

It was a small force, led by the strange work- 
man, who had only left one trouble to enter there 
and instigate another; but the small force was 
very persistent and very furious in its demands. 

Upon the other side, consisting chiefly of Hop- 
son and the old mill hands, there was only one 
who acted with any fierceness, and, strange to say, 
that one was Aleck Jones. 

When the “young master” arrived, Aleck 
placed himself, like a towering wall, by his side, 
and there he stayed through the whole time of 
tumult. 

They would not listen to Mr. Everson’s words; 
they would not indeed allow his voice to be heard. 
His first appearance at the mill was a signal for 
angry and derisive shouts, and still more unreason- 
able demands; but for the presence of the clergy- 
man with him, the mill-owner would have stood in 


328 


Whose Fault f 


great danger. The outrageous absurdity of the 
thing was shown by the Fact that not one of the 
new hands who were creating the disturbance had 
ever before even seen the master against whom 
their unwarranted complaints were made. They 
were gathered on one side of the principal mill, 
near the road by which the men came to their 
work, and no man had been allowed to enter the 
mill for work during the past day nor the present 
one. Aleck Jones would have forced his way 
through them, had not the foreman urged him not 
to do so, until they had heard from Mr. Everson. 
It was the hardest thing the strong, impulsive 
man had ever been compelled to do, to stand still 
there when he appreciated the right and wrong 
clearly, and longed to put the argument of two 
forcible arms and a bold spirit against those who 
had stirred up this strife. He had, however, good 
work to do, work which told more effectually in 
the end. 

The mill-owner at last grew impatient at the 
delay and loss of time; he said to Mr. Hopson, 
who sat inside the mill with him, “ I want to see 
and speak to that man. What is his name ? ” 

“ Brett, sir; but I do wish, Mr. Everson, you 
would think, and be cautious; he’s the worst man 
I ever saw, and he is in liquor most of the time 


Whose Fault t 


329 


now, though he’s a good workman. Excuse me, 
sir, but I would not trust him.” 

“But we must get this thing settled, Hopson. 
I’ll risk it; send for the man immediately.” 

A lad who was occasionally employed about the 
mills was sent to inform Brett that the master 
wished to see him. While he was gone, Mr. Hop- 
son said in a very doleful tone, “ It is all my fault; 
I never ought to have hired that man, at all; but 
the work was getting beyond us, and they told me 
he—” 

“ See here, Hopson,” broke in Mr. Everson, who 
could scarcely repress a smile at his foreman’s 
lugubrious face and manner, “ it is not your fault 
— not at all, in any way! It is my fault. Did I 
not send you word to take the fellow simply be- 
cause I was troubled with other matters, and did 
not care to attend to this myself. Now, whatever 
comes of this thing, Hopson, I want you to know, 
and all the others to know — Doctor Price here will 
tell them — that I consider you to have done per- 
fectly right in all respects, and have not the 
slightest fault to find with you.” 

It was pleasant to see the man’s face light up as 
Mr. Everson held out his hand and looked as cor- 
dial as his words sounded. It was a moment 
which Superintendent Hopson never forgot. 


330 


Whose F milt f 


The man Brett did not delay his coming. 

A derisive shout was heard as the messenger 
delivered his word, and then the leader stepped for- 
ward, turning to harangue his followers for a mo- 
ment before leaving them. He drew a pistol from 
his pocket and showed it to them, with a meaning 
nod of his head. 

Aleck Jones, who was everywhere, and almost 
at the same time, saw that action, and when Brett 
stood before the master in the mill, Aleck was be- 
hind a partition whence he could spring as he saw 
occasion. 

“ Your name is Brett, I believe. Will you come 
into my office ? I wish to speak with you.” 

“ The master ” indeed spoke in each cool, fear- 
less word, though Doctor Price and one or two 
other friends who stood near thought he was too 
bold and not cautious enough. 

“ Thank God that his young wife cannot know 
anything of it,” the good old clergyman exclaimed 
to himself. 

The conference was neither loud nor long, and 
dnly Aleck Jones ever knew the full purport of it. 
He never repeated a word of all that he overheard, 
as he stood concealed for his master’s defense. All 
that any one heard was this, spoken in low firm 
tones by Mr. Everson as he opened the door for 


Whose Fault f 


33i 


Brett to pass out — “ I give you to-night in which 
to make up your minds; if you are here in the 
morning, a dispatch shall bring the officers from 
the town,” spoken as calmly as one might make a 
business arrangement with a friend; and the man, 
with his fingers on the pistol, and an angry glare 
in his eyes, passed by the little group of friends, 
paused an instant, as if considering, and strode on 
toward his companions, or rather his tools, for he 
was far superior to them in mental capacity. 

“ Now, my men,” the master stepped to the mill 
door, and beckoned to his old hands, who stood in 
a body, waiting and wondering, “ come in here, I 
want you.” 

Not with any shouting — they understood their 
master too well for that — but with quiet order, 
they filed in. A few stray missiles from the other 
side fell among them, a few drops of blood were 
spilled, nothing much — a murmur, as of angry 
waves, came up from Brett’s party, and then the 
great doors swung to and the bolts were drawn. 

“ Can you hold the fort for a while, my 
men ?” 

Glad words of assent came from eager and grate- 
ful men. 

“ Then stay here under — let me see — ” 

“Jones!” “Jones, sir!” they cried with one 


332 


Whose Fault? 


consent, and Aleck Jones’ proud heart beat fast as 
he stood witn bent head at the master’s side. 

“ Yes, I agree with you,” Everson assented, 
placing one hand kindly upon Jones’ broad shoul- 
der. “ Stay here, then, under Aleck Jones, while 
Mr. Hopson and I go with Doctor Price, and get 
him to give us some supper; and — let me think — 
the men must have something to eat. Could we 
venture to send — ” 

But he was interrupted by many voices calling 
out that they wanted nothing to eat, were not 
hungry, etc., etc. 

“ Well then, if you can wait until I come back, 
or Mr. Hopson, you shall have something; and 
Ned here,” indicating the lad who had carried the 
message to Brett, “shall come with us, and let 
your wives know how the matter stands.” 

“ Three cheers for the master ! ” were irrepressi- 
ble at that, and were given with a wonderful hearti- 
ness. 

“ It’s just like the master,” they said, one to 
another; “ he always thinks of everything, even 
the wives and little ones ! ” 

And it was very true; in that fact lay his power 
over the men 

“ If anything occurs, if Brett attempts any vio- 
lence — and above all things, my men, look out for 


Whose Fault ? 


333 


fire — ring the mill bell, and you will soon have 
help.” 

They promised all care and caution, and the two 
gentlemen, with Hopson and “Ned,” went out by 
a side door, which was carefully secured after 
them. 

Hopson, however, said he should go to his own 
home, and set his wife’s heart at rest. Then, he 
could soon return to the mill. He and Ned, there- 
fore, started together for the “ mill village.” 


XXXV. 


HE instant they had left the mill and were 



A going toward the rectory, Mr. Everson seem- 
ed to drop the subject of the business trouble en- 
tirely from his mind, and to be far more deeply 
concerned with something else. 

“ Doctor, will she want to see me ? Does she 
know of my coming ? ” 

The brave old clergyman — he had yet another 
hard thing to do; but he did not hesitate nor blun- 
der over it, though he was so very weary with his 
unusual day’s work. 

“ No, Everson; your wife does not know of your 
coming; at least she does not realize that, nor 
anything now; she has not been in her right mind 
since early last night.” 

The husband leaned back in the carriage with a 
groan. 

“It is a low fever, Gregory says; and has been 
hanging about her for some days. We tried to 


334 


Whose Fault ? 


335 


keep the news of this mill trouble from her, but she 
found it out, and the first thing she asked was if 
they had sent for you. Last night just after they 
sent your dispatch, Jones came to my house; she 
heard his voice, and ran out, all excitement, to 
beseech him to take care of you; and, Everson, I 
wish you had heard him — ” the old clergyman had 
to pause for a moment, to clear his voice, and then 
he told what Aleck Jones had said to the lady 
who had prayed by the side of his sick bed. 

“And her strength suddenly seemed to give 
way then, Everson. She had fainted, just while 
Jones was speaking, and he took her up like a 
child and carried her to her bed.” 

“ Is she very ill ? Is there danger ? My friend, 
tell me the truth ! What does Gregory say ? ” 

There was no calmness or quiet absence of fear 
in his manner then; the husband was a different 
man from the owner of the mills. 

“Your wife is very ill, my dear friend; I will 
speak plainly; but Doctor Gregory says that her 
youth and her excellent constitution are greatly in 
her favor; and he has fair hope of bringing her 
safely through this attack.” 

They entered the house quietly; Doctor Gregory 
had been away to his other patients, and was now 
planning to spend the night with Mrs. Everson. 


336 


Whose Fault? 


He did not speak many words, but his grasp of 
the husband’s hand, said much. 

“ It will not harm her for me to go in ? ” asked 
Elwood. 

“ No, I think not. She will not know you.” 

He went up with the physician. Mrs. Price met 
them, and left them at the door. She was going 
to see that the bountiful, warm supper was ready 
to be served at a minute’s notice. 

Doctor Gregory stood an instant and then said, 
“ I am just going to the next room, to finish some 
preparations for the night ; call, if you want me.” 

So the husband was left alone by the bedside of 
his wife. He knelt down, bringing his face quite 
close to hers, but he could not fix her gaze ; she 
moved her head restlessly from side to side, and 
her low mutterings showed how her mind was wan- 
dering. 

“ Rica,” she said, “ Rica, it isn’t true ! I do 
love him ! Ha, ha ! not Malcolm ! What made 
the trouble ? George Graeme came here — here-, 
to H- . Funny, wasn’t it ? ” 

Then a pause while he ventured to reach for her 
hand ; its touch was like fire, and yet she shivered 
and her feverish raving began again. 

“ Yes, the very same day, a year ago — the Feast 
— the Feast of — sh ! Doctor Price told me. I shall 


Whose Fault? 


337 


be — confirmed ; don’t tell Elwood, he doesn’t 
care,” then a laugh, a low, harsh laugh that was so 
unlike herself it made her husband groan aloud. 

The doctor came softly in. 

“ Her pure young life is having a hard battle, 
but it will conquer, please God,” he said, with such 
quiet confidence that Elwood took hope. 

“ Mrs. Price is waiting for you now, and you 
must eat, Mr. Everson ; you want the strength 
for two men — for the husband and the mill 
master.” 

Doctor Gregory went with him to the door, 
speaking cheerfully. 

“ But you, doctor ? ” 

“Oh, I have had my supper, and my smoke. 
Now I am all right for the night.” 

He closed the door, standing outside a moment 
to speak more distinctly. 

“ I can have an excellent nurse here, Everson 
at any moment, if you prefer ; but I shall be here 
much of the time anyhow, and Mrs. Price is like a 
mother ; talk it over with her, if you will.” 

He went in again and Mrs. Price came up to ask 
Elwood to the dining room, where her husband 
was waiting. 

“ There is a hamper of provisions all ready for 
your men, Everson ; my wife understands how to 


338 


Whose Fault ? 


do that sort of thing ; now, we can take it over, or 
I can send it, if you conclude not to go back.” 

“ Yes, I must go back, by and by. I thank you 
very much, Mrs. Price, for your thoughtfulness. I 
fear you will begin to think me a very troublesome 
individual.” 

He wondered if they censured him, as the cause 
of his wife’s trouble. It was very little matter if 
they did, if that wife only recovered her health and 
strength ; and in any case, he felt that this clergy- 
man and his wife were true and loyal friends. 

He would not allow Doctor Price to return to 
the mill, as he spoke of doing, but insisted on his 
trying to get some rest and sleep ; so the doctor’s 
boy was sent with the hamper to the mill, and 
Mr. Everson said he would walk over himself 
later. 

An hour or two passed quickly, where there was 
so much to speak of and such anxiety to do, 
though there was really very little that could be 
done for the sufferer who held so large a share in 
all their thoughts and affections. 

Then, as the clock struck a late hour, some one 
asked, “ Have you seen the doctor’s boy since he 
came back ? ” 

“ Has he come back ? He ought to have re- 
ported.” 


Whose Fault ? 


339 


But, upon search, it was found that the boy had 
not returned. 

“ Then there is something wrong,” said Mr. 
Everson calmly, rising to put on his over- 
coat. 

They wondered at him, he seemed so quiet, not 
rushing about, as many another man would have 
done, nor creating any disturbance in any way, not 
even appearing to be in much haste, though the 
occasion was evidently an urgent one. 

He went again to his wife’s room, before starting 
out. She had slept a little, under the influence of 
an opiate, and was, perhaps, a trifle more quiet ; 
but oh, he thought he would give anything if he 
could only see the clear light of reason in those glit- 
tering eyes. 

During those few hours matters had been very 
lively at the mill. 

“Let us have precious little light,” said Aleck 
Jones, as they began to olan, after the gentlemen 
had gone, “ and then we can see what those fel- 
lows are about. I think I’ll get a place he t re at 
this low-down window, where i can keep an eye 
on that man Brett ; and one or two of you will 
stay pretty close, so that I can speak with you 
without being heard outside in case of his coming 
up." 


340 


Whose Fault ? 


Their movements were all quiet, and they di- 
vided up, so as to keep watch on all sides. 

One or two of them stretched themselves on the 
floor, close to Aleck, whose keen eyes were eagerly 
fixed on the spot where he could discern Brett’s 
slouching figure going to and fro in front of his 
men. 

Half an hour passed, and then Aleck raised him- 
self slightly, as if his attention had been attracted. 

“ The snake’s creeping up ! ” he announced in a 
low tone. 

Brett was indeed “ creeping up,” and another 
man just behind him. 

They came gradually under the shadow of the 
building, and seemed to be searching for some- 
thing. Aleck’s ear was pressed close to the win- 
dow crack, but neither sight nor sound told where 
the men inside the mill were. 

“ The thing has gone out — just my luck ! Give 
me a match,” whispered Brett. 

Without a word or sound of warning, Aleck 
sprang through the low window and caught the 
man by the throat. 

“ Is it a match you want ? Let me show you it 
then ! ” 

Brett had his match truly, for though he tugged 
and fought fiercely, he could not free himself from 


Whose Fault ? 


34i 


the other’s powerful grasp. His companion ran, 
and before the others could come up, Jones had 
the man inside the mill, and the window shut 
again. 

“ Now, boys, we’ll fix this one, and then attend 
to the other matters,” for Aleck was fearful lest 
the fire might have started somewhere. 

“ A nice way to take advantage of the master’s 
generosity,” said Aleck, as he tied the man fast 
and pinioned his arms. “ Now, you can have a lit- 
tle time for meditation ; and look here, fellow, if 
you don’t quit that swearing, I’ll gag you, sure,’ 
which threat had its desired effect. 

At this moment, the doctor’s boy came up by a 
side road, and he discovered the fire, which had 
caught in another place. He heard Aleck’s voice 
inside, and called to him. Then, indeed, it was 
hard work which the men had to do, fighting the 
fire, keeping watch of the building, lest the men 
should get in and liberate their leader, and bat- 
tling with the fellows who from time to time at- 
tacked them. 

“ Shall we ring the bell ? ” asked one of the men, 
for they all followed Aleck’s guidance willingly. 

“ Not yet ; we won’t trouble the master if we 
can help it. ’Twould be a good thing if we could 
settle these fellows for him ! ” 


342 


Whose Fault ? 


So they worked with a will, and the first thing 
which yielded was the fire; apparently they had 
made all secure from that. 

“ What next?” demanded one. 

“ Here’s your supper that the master sent you,” 
said the doctor’s lad, displaying sundry tempting 
things to the exhausted men. 

“Hallo! Just set the table, will you, while I 
hang a few of these fellows? ” but though Aleck 
was so gay in spirit, he had some bad bruises and 
burns, and felt quite tired out. 

“If the master comes back, he’ll send for 
the officers, I suppose,” he said, striking away at 
one and another, who could not bear to give in, 
above all to this man Jones, but finding that there 
was no hope of releasing their leader, the men 
gradually dropped away, and left him to his fate. 
The bond between them was not firm enough to 
hold when self-interest pulled strongly in an 
opposite direction. 

“ Better take the first train, and get out of the 
way,” called Aleck. “ I think I see the master 
a-coming down the hill! ” 

They saw, too, and the last few defiant ones 

disappeared. 

* 

“ Fling open the doors to welcome the master,” 
shouted Aleck, who, in his effort to bear up under 


Whose Fault ? 


343 

the pain and exhaustion he was feeling, grew more 
hilarious than was his custom. 

Elwood scented the fire, as he drew near, and 
that aroused him. He hastened up wondering why 
the men stood so quietly, with that smell of fire 
about them 

“ Don’t you know there is fire, my men ? 
Where is it? ” 

“We have put it out, sir, and all is right now.” 

“ And you haven’t eaten? ” he asked, noticing 
the appearance of things, and then, “ Why, what 
is this, Brett? ” as his eyes fell upon the man who 
lay bound in a corner. 

“ Tell the master about it, boys,” said Aleck, 
whose face and voice drew attention to himself. 

The foreman also appeared at that moment, and 
Elwood sent for his own horse and buggy to con- 
vey Aleck home. He had the whole story, by the 
time it arrived, and took the reins himself, to take 
the brave man home, while the others ate what 
they so much needed. 

Turning his head to look at Brett, as he was 
helped out on the arm of a comrade, Aleck said, 
“ Take good care of him, boys! ” 

“ Aye, trust us! ” 

When Mr. Everson had put him safely into the 
wife’s hands, and thanked him with warm words 


344 


Whose Fault? 


for his faithful services, the man’s face grew serious. 
He looked up to Elwood, and said, “ Master, once 
your beautiful lady knelt at my side and said ‘ Our 
Father,’ * because,’ said she — counting me a brother 
alongside of herself — * we both need a Father’s help; ’ 
and so it was just her prayer that helped me to- 
night, and saved the mill. I heard it all the while 
I was working to get that fire out — ‘ Our Father,’ 
in the lady’s soft words.” 

Elwood was deeply moved. He could only 
grasp his workman’s hand, and say, “ Pray for her 
now, my friend, for she lies very ill.” 

The gray dawn was growing across the hill-tops, 
when the foreman dismissed his men, giving them 
a holiday, at the master’s desire, and the wherewith 
to enjoy it. 

They, however, agreed among themselves — and 
Mr. Hopson approved — to divide into detachments, 
to stay at the mill by turns. 

“For,” said they, “ the master is too good and 
generous to be suspicious. He has taken the 
‘word of honor’ of that fellow who has no honor 
about him; and who knows? ” 

Yet in their secret hearts they were each one of 
them well-pleased with “the master’s” generous 
decision. 


XXXVI. 


TWTR. SHERWOOD, I see it all now, when it 
may be too late! Oh, why is it always 
so? Why do we only find oijt our blunders and our 
failings when it is too late? ” 

“ ‘ Knowledge by suffering entereth,’ Miss Grace; 
that is our human lot. It was through suffering — 
such as we can never faintly realize — that our Mas- 
ter took upon Him the knowledge of our poor weak 
human nature; so that all suffering is henceforth 
sanctified if it but lead us nearer to Him. Then 
too your knowledge may not be too late, as you 
say. Mrs. Everson is very young, she may re- 
cover.” 

“ So young! yes, that is just it; a mere child, as 
mother says, and yet we had no patience with her; 
never showed her, by our lives, what a good thing 
was the Church we loved so.” 

“ Oh, Miss Grace, are you not too hard in your 
self-judgment? How is your mother to-day?” 

345 


34 ^ 


Whose Fault f 


“Not at all well. Will you come in to see her? 
She is wearing out under this anxiety. Elwood 
has always been so much to her, and she cannot 
bear that he should suffer.” 

The young clergyman sighed as he entered the 
house with Grace. He was learning to feel his 
own weakness — and therein lay his future strength 
— he saw how poorly he filled the place of the 
aged rector to the mother of this family; he 
knew quite well that she could not speak with 
him and confide in him as she had done with 
Doctor Dorman; he knew that she missed the old 
clergyman; yet she always received Mr. Sherwood 
kindly, and listened to all that he had to say. 

He did not say much in those days; he felt 
that he, too, might have done better for young 
Mrs. Everson. He might, as Grace had said, 
have helped to lead her to the Church by a 
more quiet and unostentatious showing of its 
pleasant ways; he might have talked less, in his 
bantering, laughing style, which, to an earnest 
person, is always unseemly and offensive. 

Over the once happy and united household hung 
a heavy cloud. They were in daily receipt of a 
dispatch from Elwood, but thus far no hopeful 
news had been given them. 

“ All good and pleasant things are so held in 


Whose Fault f 


347 


abeyance by this one trouble,” said Jessie, some- 
what complainingly ; yet she too had her secret 
conviction that she had not been wholly blameless 
with regard to her brother’s wife. 

Mr. Allan Brewster had announced himself as 
now quite ready and anxious to be married, but of 
course it could not be, Jessie said, until some dif- 
ferent and definite news came from Elwood. So 
she was still the same restless, dissatisfied woman; 
a trifle wiser, as any good woman must be through 
a -conviction of her mistakes. Grace and Rica 
could afford to wait for their happiness, they were 
younger, she said ; yet she and Allan managed to 
get a good deal of happiness out of those days of 
waiting. 

Rica had longed to go to her sister-in-law, but 
she knew she ought not to leave her mother ; 
besides, Sylvie had gone as soon as they had let 
her know of the danger ; perhaps one more would 
only be in the way, and comfort nobody but her- 
self. So she waited at home, and was a sweet 
stronghold of comfort and rest and hope, both to 
her mother and to Malcolm De Lancey, whose 
young life might perhaps in those days have lost its 
aim and courage had it not been for the upholding 
love of this pure, true woman. 


348 


Whose Fault? 


“When she awakes, I hope — I think she will 
know you.” Doctor Gregory spoke cautiously, for 
he recognized the feverish dread, the longing, the 
anxiety in Elwood Everson’s worn face. 

“ There will be nothing to do, except to talk 
yourself, and not to let her talk much,” he added, 
in his blunt way ; and then he went out. 

To Mrs. Price he reiterated the caution, “ Do 
not let her talk much,” then turning back and 
hesitating slightly, he added, “ Mrs. Price, she 
must not go home at all this summer.” 

“ No, doctor ; certainly not. I shall keep her 
here, until some other place will be better for 
her.” 

He nodded his head then, as if he felt quite 
satisfied, and went off. 

How calmly she slept ! Not a trace of that 
restlessness ; no more twitching of the lips ; not a 
groan, or a murmur ; only the quiet, regular 
breath. 

How thankful he was ! He knelt down and 
prayed in his heart, uttering the words of the 
Thanksgiving for a Recovery from Sickness. 

Then he sat patiently waiting, his thoughts full 
of sweet, happy remembrances. 

One hour — two, — since Doctor Gregory left her, 
and she had not moved. 


Whose Fault? 


349 


He stepped softly to the bed, and looked ; he 
had scarcely dared to look long, before ; he had 
felt, had hoped, that there might be a magnetism 
in his gaze which would disturb her ; but now he 
gazed on ; and suddenly, without any warning of 
motion or of breath, she opened her eyes and 
looked directly into his — her own sweet, clear, 
loving eyes again. How could he bear the happi- 
ness ! He just stood and gazed, but he did not 
know how his face was transfigured with joy and 
gratitude. 

She smiled at him, and said feebly, “ Elwood, 
dear husband,” and he knelt close, folding her in 
his arms, and kissing her with love’s tenderest 
kisses. 

She seemed very weak, scarcely able to speak, 
but she looked at him with a great joy in her 
face. 

At last she said, almost in a whisper, “ Have I 
been ill, Elwood ? ” 

“ Yes, darling, but now you are better. This is 
the beginning ; only you are to let me do the talk- 
ing.” 

She smiled, as if that indeed were an easy mat- 
ter just then. She seemed to be thinking, trying 
to recall something. 

He was watching eagerly, not knowing whether 


35o 


Whose Fault? 


he ought to speak, when she looked up again, a 
little dimness of happy tears in her eyes. 

“Elwood, the Thanksgiving for a Recovery, will 
you say it for me, dear ? ” 

How his heart throbbed ! Could he command 
his voice ? He took her little Prayer Book, over 
which he had shed many manly tears during those 
last days. 

“ Darling, which one ? ” he asked, hesitating, yet 
forgetting that she had not known the Prayer 
Book as well as he. 

“The one in ‘the Visitation/ ” she answered 
feebly. 

When he had said it, broken with sobs at each 
sentence, she uttered a soft “ amen,” and closing 
her eyes, slept again — this time with her hand 
in her husband’s. 

And all the time he sat there, he wondered and 
rejoiced at her knowledge of the Prayer Book, 
and her evident longing for its words of com- 
fort. 

Doctor Price had told him nothing directly ; he 
had often spoken of such and such a service at 
which Mrs. Everson had been present r but only in a 
casual way; the deeper, fuller telling he left for the 
wife herself. 

Doctor Gregory came in while Elwood sat there 


Whose Fault? 35 1 

holding his wife’s hand; he smiled. “ I see,” he 
said, “ it is all right.” 

He thought he had never seen any such joy on 
a man’s face. He placed a glass, with its contents 
to be given when Mrs. Everson awoke again,' on a 
table by the bed, and went out nodding his head 
emphatically, and saying to himself, “ It’s always 
so, the strongest, truest men are those held fast 
by a woman’s gentle hand! ” 

Elwood called Sylvie, who had given place 
wholly to him, and told her she must be there 
when Gertrude awoke again. 

“ But no one else, mind ! ” said Doctor Gregory, 
positively. “ Not even this little Prince, who is 
such a brave fellow that he can keep as still as 
a mouse, and then he carried “ Prince ” off for a long 
ride, which was a wonderful treat to the city boy. 

Gertrude’s recovery progressed in a very en- 
couraging manner; she spoke very little during the 
first few days, seeming quite contented to lie and 
watch the faces of the dear ones who had come to 
her; she did not ask how or why, she only knew 
that they were there, and took comfort in the 
knowledge. 

As she gained in strength, and they began to 
realize that she would wish to talk, they gener- 
ously tried to give place one to the other. 


Whose Fault f 


352 

“ It is you whom she will want to speak with 
most, Elwood,” Sylvie would say. 

“ I don’t know, Sylvie; you are her only sister, 
and she naturally will want to confide in you.” 

But Sylvie often made solicitude for “ Prince ” 
an excuse for her absence, although he really did 
not need her, for he was wonderfully happy in the 
attentions of the doctor and of the clergyman and 
his wife. 

“ What day is it, Elwood ? ” asked his wife one 
bright morning, as she sat looking at the sunlight 
falling through the vines which clambered to her 
window. 

“Almost the middle of May, dear. To-day is 
the fourteenth.” 

“ I have been ill a long time. How kind, 
how very good, Doctor Price and his wife 
are! ” 

“ Indeed they are, my darling, and they love you 
like their own child; they told me so.” 

Tears filled her eyes. Presently she said, “ My 
husband, I want to tell you something. 

He raised her gently, so that she could rest in 
his arms; then he said, very tenderly, “ Darling, 
it must not be a word about the past; that is over 
and gone; about our happy present, or our glad, 
good future let it be.” 


Whose Fault? 353 

“ But Elwood dear, can you trust me, so ?” she 
asked brokenly. 

“ Doctor Price told me that the ground had to 
be prepared for the seed; I think he was right; I 
have learned so much — and, Elwood, I want to be 
confirmed. I wonder if I could get out to church 
by Ascension Day.” 

“ I am afraid not, my darling; it is quite near, 
you know; we will ask Doctor Gregory; I hear his 
step, now.” 

The doctor said no; if she grew strong, and ate 
well, and sat up for a few previous days, she might 
go out for a ride on that day, or about that time; 
but not to church; and he looked as if he regarded 
the very idea as preposterous. 

In the meantime, Elwood, happy man, had his 
head full of plans; He would find a house near 
their friends, which he could rent for the summer, 
and if his mother and sisters would come there to 
keep it for them, Gertrude not only could grow 
well and strong, but they could all enjoy the air 
of the hills and the quiet beauty of the retired 
place. 

It turned out somewhat differently, yet very 
pleasantly to all concerned. Sylvie and Stewart 
took the house, and the others came as they 


354 


Whose Fault ? 


pleased and stayed with them ; and during that 
happy summer, Elwood carried out his intention 
of building a little country home for Gertrude and 
himself. He had found in his daily walks how his 
wife had endeared herself to the humble mill peo- 
ple, and he knew that the blessed understanding 
of the Church and the reaching to the Master 
through each of its days and services which had 
been given her there, made the place doubly dear 
to her heart. 

She grew well very fast after that first ride, so 
that Doctor Gregory said she might attend service 
on Whitsunday if the weather were favorable. 

Doctor Price wrote to the Bishop, who felt a 
sort of pet pride and affection for this parish 
among the hills, and told him that he had two 
candidates who had not been fully prepared at the 
last visitation. So the good man arranged his 

plans, and went to the Church at H on the 

morning of Whitsunday. 

It was a touching sight to all the congregation, 
and it made the occasion doubly affecting to Mrs. 
Everson — just the two, man and woman, beauty 
and strength, going side by side, up to the chancel 
to receive strengthening grace of the Holy Spirit, 
“ through prayer and the laying on of hands.” 
Aleck Jones and the “master’s lady,” the strong. 


Whose Fault ? 


355 


stalwart man, and the fair, girlish woman ; both 
alike needed that defending grace, and both, as 
little children, knelt to receive it. The face of 
Aleck’s wife was tremulous with joyful emotion; 
it seemed to her it was the happiest day of her 
life. 

Generous-hearted Sylvie! Staunch Presbyterian 
though she was, she had not one pang of regret, 
rather did she rejoice with her whole heart to 
know that Gertrude was now of her husband’s 
Church — one with him in all things. 

The children had been wild with joy, at the 
rector’s permission to decorate the Church for the 
Whitsun Feast; to be sure their thought was 
more of the dear lady who would come for the 
first time since her sickness, yet it was not a 
thought which could interfere. 

The chancel and font were glorified with the 
whiteness; willing hands had undertaken the ar- 
rangement of the flowers for the children, and the 
effect was beautiful. In Mrs. Everson’s pew lay a 
lovely bouquet, prepared expressly by the old flor- 
ist whose humble home had been gladdened often 
by Gertrude’s presence. 

As the Bishop’s hands rested upon the wife’s 
head, suddenly a voice seemed to repeat to her the 
Master’s own words— “ And whosesoever sins ye 


3 56 


Whose Fault ? 


remit, they are remitted unto them.” They seemed 
to rise before her, that long company of holy 
men, reaching back to the Apostles and their 
Lord, the Head of His Church; and through their 
hands, from His, passed that power of blessing and 
forgiveness, like a pure chain of gold, shining with 
the deathless glory of His love! 

She felt the burden lifted. It was as if the 
Christ Himself had spoken to her — using that at 
which she had scoffed and against which she had 
rebelled, to bless her most abundantly — bidding 
her welcome to His Church, His own household, 
redeemed and guarded forever by Himself ; for 
“ Lo,” said He to those whom He sent, “ Lo, I am 
with you alway, even unto the end of the world.” 















































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